Hurricane
by Murasaki Kurai
Summary: There is a difference between living in fear and letting that fear control the way you live. Selina Kyle feels the storm coming, but she can never escape it, nor will she ever be free. Dark. Bane/Selina Kyle. Rated for violence and rape. Character death.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This fanfiction begins a couple months before the start of TDKR and goes through the entirety of it, and past the end. Needless to say there are spoilers. I try to get the lines right as best I can, but it is a bit difficult. It is heavily influenced by the song Hurricane, by 30 Seconds to Mars, for which it is named.

**Pairings:** Bane/Selina Kyle with a bit of Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle

**Warnings:** DARK. CONTAINS RAPE AND ABUSE. This is especially true for the first few chapters (INCLUDING THIS ONE). I don't know how else to warn you. Dark shit is ahead.

* * *

_**Hurricane**_

_by Murasaki Kurai_

Chapter 1

Even years after the implementation of the Dent Act and the ridding of organized crime, Gotham is daunting at night. The steel mountains create a sort of maze that seems nearly impossible to navigate, especially miles from the city center, where street lights are sparse.

In one of the alleys lying in the darkness between lights, two men corner a woman. She is frightened, visibly so, but they don't laugh at her. Instead they stand a few yards away from her, close enough to be intimidating but far enough to be out of easy reach.

"Please—please," she sobs, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. "My daughter is at home and I need to—"

"Drop the act," one of the men snarls. "We come from Bane."

Selina Kyle's face changes instantly. Her eyes go dry and her deep frown turns into a smirk. Her back straightens and any fear is replaced with a look of complete control.

"Bane…now, who is that again?" She had, of course, heard the rumors. A man living in the underground caverns of Gotham City.

The men ignore her comment. "He wants to speak with you. You need to come with us."

She wants to laugh, but she settles on widening her smirk. If they think it possible to force her, they have another thing coming.

"Ooh… I am actually a bit preoccupied. Can I take a rain check?" Selina has no idea why Bane wants to see her, but if he knows who she is and what she is capable of he should not underestimate her so greatly. _The masked mercenary reigning from the sewers. _

In his own way, the man is a celebrity. The remaining criminals of Gotham that Selina is _lucky _enough to meet with on occasion live in complete and utter fear of him. Supposedly he possesses the raw strength of a bear, but the speed of a serpent. Selina doubts that. Over the years, she has found the men that like to spread such rumors to be idiotic weaklings.

"No. Bane will see you tonight."

Selina flips her hair over her shoulder and leans down to scratch her knee. Her roommate is making chili at home and she's starving. One of the men step towards her in an action that is likely meant to be menacing but comes off as clumsy to Selina's trained eyes. Her shoulders roll in a shrug; she is stretching for the fight that is about to begin.

The man lunges. Selina dodges without much effort, tripping him in the process with one of her high-heeled feet. She glances at the other man, who takes a gun out of his pocket. That pisses her off—these guys think they can walk around like the own the city just because they have fire in their pockets. Selina flips before the man can even release the safety, catching him in the chin with her heel. When she's upright again, she notices an adequate gash stretching up his face. She feels satisfied with that and picks up the fallen gun.

"Just for future reference… Where _exactly _does Bane set up his little operation?" She asks. "Maybe I'll drop by sometime."

The men glare at her, and she recognizes there is no way they'll tell her. Not that it matters—she put a tracking chip on the man she tripped.

She lets out dramatic sigh, eye rolling to the sky. "_Fine._ Later, boys."

Selina decides to go back to her apartment, eat dinner, then pay Bane a visit in a couple hours. She supposes she could have easily just gone with Bane's lackeys, but she prefers meetings of this sort to be on her terms. Besides, there isn't a point in fighting on an empty stomach—and it will undeniably come to that.

Once she's a safe distance away, Selina pulls her cell phone out of her purse and checks the monitor to see what direction the men decided to go. It looks like they are following her, until they turn to move in the opposite direction, towards the nicer area of Gotham. She exits out of the monitor and sends a message to her friend, saying she was held up, but would be home in ten minutes.

Selina's roommate is a bit annoying at times, especially when she gets ridiculously drunk and Selina has to carry her home and lay her in bed. But she is a pretty good cook, and Selina burns everything she touches. Plus, her friend doesn't judge Selina's methods of making a living for herself. Frankly, she idolizes her—and Selina likes it. It's like having a constantly appreciative dog.

Selina enjoys the meal of thick chili and stale bread before ducking out again, not bothering to tell her roommate where she's going. She looks at the tracker again and sees that it is stationary somewhere in the middle of the Gotham business district.

_Interesting. _Selina knows that Bane holes himself up in the sewers, but she always had the impression that the sewers in that area were newer and more monitored. She expected them to be on the opposite side of the city, in the slums. _This will be fun._

* * *

About an hour later, Selina makes her way through the tunnels, slowly closing in on the blinking light. She becomes frustrated with the entire situation. She did not sleep the night before and she knows once she finds Bane, she'll have to fight her way home. _Exhausting._

She considers turning back and saving this for another day, but then she moves through a doorway and stops dead in her tracks. From the dark, narrow tunnel behind her, a huge room opens up, at least seven stories high. A narrow waterfall drains from a pipe up above, creating a strange effect of a clash between nature and industrialism. It enthralls her.

Then she remembers herself and moves backward, to conceal herself and survey the area. From where she hides she can see only a few people, not enough to be called an army. They must be on some of the lower levels.

Thinking fast, Selina jumps forward, hooking her knees on a railing to peer around the floor below. She sees only a mass of supplies—food, water, firearms, ammunition and explosives. She lands silently on that floor and hangs herself upside down to survey the next story.

_A-ha. _She silently turns her body right side up and stands on the railing below her. An area is separated from the rest of the floor, and a group of men stand in the corner, conversing about something.

"You called?" Selina yells across the room. She sounds bored because she is bored—she expected it to be much more difficult to find them. She wears her black cat suit and her black mask, her hair hanging loose behind her. All the men but one turn, looking at her in shock. Selina lounges on the rail. She wants to know what the _fuck _Bane wants so she can get out of the sewers.

"Barsad. It would appear that there are some holes in your security detail." The sound of his voice throws her off guard. She expected it to be deeper, like some sort of wrestler, or body builder. But he sounds foreign and huge, with the mask warping his words, making him sound almost robotic.

Most of the men flinch; the one known as Barsad does not. "I don't know about that, sir… This one's a bit slippery."

Selina doesn't like the way they speak about her. _As if I'm a joke. _

She can barely wait for them to come at her. Her fingers itch to pound some skulls.

Then Bane turns around and Selina's heart stops. He is huge. Bigger than anyone she's ever seen and definitely bigger than anyone she's ever fought. He towers over her, and his arms are the size of her head. Muscles cover every inch of him—those in his chest showcased by a sleeveless shirt.

Then there's his face. He has no hair, but three thick straps stretch over it holding the mask in place. The mask is the defining point of his facial features. It overshadows everything else; black and metallic, with silver pieces reminiscent of the teeth of a wild animal. He looks positively feral and Selina feels something that she hasn't felt in a long time: fear.

"Ms. Kyle…" Her name on his voice makes her flinch. "You have cost me a follower."

Her gaze flicks to the corner, where a body lies. _The man from the alley. _Upon closer inspection, she believes it to be the man she tripped into the gutter. There is no gun shot wound.

_His neck! _Selina recognizes that his neck is broken, jerked to the side with bruises in the shape of huge hands. Her gaze flickers back to Bane.

Without turning her neck to give herself easily away, her eyes move across the room, searching for an escape, as she always does.

"Going somewhere?" He isn't stupid. He notices the little things.

Selina feels her arms shaking and forcibly tenses her muscles. _Pull yourself together. _Then, because there is nothing else she can do in this situation, she bluffs.

"Just admiring the nice place you have here," she replies, voice perfectly level. "Who knew sewers could be so charming."

Bane says nothing; he simply stares across the room at her. His eyes are stony, giving nothing away to Selina.

She is becoming quickly frustrated. She takes a few lazy strides forward, pointedly towards Bane. Like a gust of wind, some of the lower men flinch away from her, unsure what to do. Following the death of one of their own at the hands of Bane, after a brawl with Selina, she likely represents something dangerous to them.

"Your dogs barked," Selina says to Bane. "Why did you want to see me?"

"The stories of Gotham's _stray cat _reached my ears. I must confess myself… intrigued."

Something boils within her—something she can't quite name. She has no idea how to respond to such a vague comment, so she raises an eyebrow at Bane, imploring him further.

"I wished to make your acquaintance."

Selina rolls her eyes. "You called me down here just for _that?_"

Bane crosses his arms against his chest and lifts his head in what Selina easily recognizes as a male show of dominance. Her eyes flash.

"You're new around here, you don't know any better. This town belongs to me."

He makes a small sound that she interprets as a laugh. "Not the Batman?"

She scoffs. Her confidence is quickly returning from the initial shock; she is in her element once more. "No one's seen _him_ for eight years. Things are different now. He scampered off to his hole after the Joker tore the city apart. I suggest you do the same."

Without any indication that he heard Selina's advice, Bane turns to his comrades. "Leave us. Barsad—you know what to do."

Before Selina realizes what is happening, she and Bane are alone, surrounded by blinking computer monitors and tables scattered with papers—maps it looks like. She watches the door slam shut behind Barsad, then snaps back to Bane. While she was distracted, he silently closed the distance between them so only a yard separates them.

Fight or flight kicks in. "Well, this has been fun. Too-da-loo."

Selina lets her body fall backwards, to tumble over the railing, towards the ground far below. She is in free fall for a split second before strong arms grab her and pull her back up. She is so shocked at his speed that she can't react quickly enough to hit him in retaliation.

Bane throws her across the room and she recovers enough to land on her feet. _Fight, then._

"Leaving so soon?" Bane asks sarcastically. "I was enjoying your company."

"The feeling isn't mutual!" Selina yells, darting to the side. Her heels make it difficult to move so quickly and be silent, but stealth isn't really her aim at the moment.

He's faster. He blocks her roughly with his shoulder and throws her to floor. Her back snaps upwards, throwing herself into a standing position. Hand to hand combat is impossible against him. She may be just as skilled as Bane, but her strength is no match for his. Each blow she lands is returned ten times over. Bruises form beneath her suit.

She realizes, with a sense of dread, that she terribly miscalculated. It was a mistake to come into the sewers. Normal men, she can deal with. This is not a normal man. He is far faster than her. He shouldn't be, with all that bulky muscle, but she knows he is. That doesn't stop her from trying. She flings her foot out and catches his, sending him tumbling to the ground.

For one perfect second, Selina feels a sense of pride. Then Bane's giant hand reaches up, grabs her waist, and pulls her down, making her crash into the cement. He rolls on top of her.

"How did you find this place?" He growls. Everything hurts and she feels powerless. "_Tell_ me."

"Tr-tracking device… on the dead guy…" she splutters in response, because for once she can't think of a lie. She _lost_.

His weight leaves her and he stalks over to the corpse in the corner. "Don't move."

She needs to move. She needs to get out. She knows this, but the menace in his voice has her rooted to the spot in pure, unadulterated fear. A snap echoes around the cavern as he destroys the tracking device and her chance is gone; he's on her again.

He pins her to the floor.

"Pl-please get off…" she whispers. Selina Kyle isn't like this. She is strong, she doesn't let men push her around. She doesn't submit when things get bad.

"Ms. Kyle," Bane says simply. "The reason I called you down here this fine evening is so that I may present to you a proposition."

She bucks against him for no reason, she knows she can't move the mountain of a man towering over her, but she can't hold still and take it either.

"What kind of proposition?" She rasps.

"I am aware that you posses certain skills. I want them in my control."

Selina is unable to prevent a shiver from going down her back. His words are barely twisted to say 'I want you in my control.'

"And… and if I say no?" Though Selina feels angry, the emotion does not show itself in her shaky voice.

"You don't exactly have a choice in the matter."

_This is bad_, Selina thinks. Her danger senses tingle, screaming to get out, but she can't.

Out of nowhere, Bane presses the fingers of his right hand against her lips.

"Suck." The command seems strange and foreign coming from him. He pushes her lips aside but she holds her jaw tight together. His hand moves away for a moment and Selina relaxes. Then it snaps back and hits her square across the face. Her mouth opens as she lets out a gasp of pain and three finger force their way in.

"This will be much easier if you do as you are told…" He murmurs. His index finger coaxes her tongue aside and stretches as far back as it will go. Selina squeezes her eyes shut in order to keep her gag reflex in check. As much as she would _love _to cover the bastard in vomit, she wishes to retain as much of her dignity as possible.

After a minute, he withdraws his hand from her mouth. Selina's head goes slack, head going limp into the cement as she gasps for air. For a time, the panic leaves her as she forces herself to relax.

Bane's hand touches the zipper at her collar and all the horror comes rushing back. As the fabric pulls apart beneath his grasp, the cold air of the sewers gives birth to goose bumps upon her back. His fingers, wet with her own saliva, skim her lower back, spreading to palm the top of her ass. Beneath her cat suit, Selina wears only a black thong—no shirt, no bra. She is already naked and exposed to him as he peels the faux leather away from her skin.

She is naked beneath him. She remembers, with a bit of bitterness, that this is the first time she's been _below _a man in years. She prefers being on top, being dominant.

Then he pushes his slick fingers inside her, parting her folds with ease. Selina gasps and whimpers, but doesn't scream. No matter how much pain, how much _humiliation _she feels, she knows screaming will do no good. There is no one is the hell-like cavern that will save her.

Her vaginal walls unwillingly clench around his fingers. A deep, guttural sound escapes him, followed by a quick grunt. She can't help but notice that it sounds _fucking appreciative. _

Rape is not something Selina has experience with. From a young age she could defend herself against men. Oh, sure, there were plenty of _attempted rapes_, especially in the slum neighborhood that she grew up in, but they never resulted in the actual act—always the perpetrator temporarily losing use of some vital limb. There was no possibility of that now.

The fingers pump against her. His thumb brushes over her clit, in no way intended to be pleasurable. Still, the effects of the intimate contact have her panting and mewling before she can stop herself. He withdraws his fingers and she hopes desperately that he is done with her.

The sound of a zipper echoes through the room, quashing her hope. She does not even have the chance to beg him to stop before he is inside her.

Like every other part of him, Bane's cock is massive. She feels filled to the brim and she doubts he is even half sheathed. She cries silently, unwilling to give him the pleasure of hearing her sobs. It hurts like nothing she has experienced before, but she can take it.

Her willpower overcomes the physical pain. She knows she just has to get through this. He said he wants her to work for him, so, at least for now, her life is safe. She just needs to wait until he lets her go, and she can run. Gotham is a large city, and she knows its every nook and cranny. She _can_ escape him.

And at another time, she will have her revenge.

His hands suddenly grip her neck. It is an action so possessive and frightening that she actually begins to fight back again.

"Get…_off!_" She groans. The movement seems to be enough for him, because he grunts and spills himself inside her. When he pulls out, she feels the sting of blood vessels broken on her walls.

"As you wish."

His weight disappears from her and she becomes very aware of the mixture of his cum and her blood dripping from her cunt.

_It's over. _She can do this. She just has to regain her strength, put her clothes on and she will—

His hands hook into the pits of her arms. The fabric of her suit falls with a slap to the floor and Bane slings her naked body over his shoulder.

"What—?" She asks before she can stop herself.

His body rumbles through her as he chuckles. "Did you think we were done?"

_Please, no more_…

_"_Oh, _god!_"She murmurs.

"I had no idea you were religious, Ms. Kyle."

She needs to get out. This is escalating fast. Her sense of being is quickly leaving her, and once it does she won't be able to find a way out.

"_Fuck…_Fuck off…" She whispers, as everything fades to black.

* * *

**A/N **The majority of this story is written or heavily outlined. I plan to update 1-2 times a week, hopefully more if I can. Reviews are, as always, appreciated and my tumblr url is luvkurai.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N **I wanted to address a couple things. I am aware that Bane is an idealist and therefore would not generally commit rape... but that's all I'm going to say right now. I'm not sure exactly how many chapters there will be, but I have **_quite a lot_ **of story left to go, quite a lot of character development and quite a lot of explanation. I was actually more surprised that no one got pissed off at the way Selina Kyle is portrayed (I really struggled with writing her). She's tough because she's so snarky and badass, but also a bit broken. I don't normally write in third person, usually first, but I doubted my ability to get so fully into her head.

Thank you for the reviews. I am glad to have gotten people's attention. I know this is an intense fanfiction, and not necessarily in a good way. I'm also really glad that people seem to be both intrigued and disturbed. That _is _what I'm going for...

**Warnings: **The same warnings apply to this chapter. Contains **_rape and abuse_.** (But don't worry-it tones down a bit after this. I'll continue to put warnings in place when they apply.)

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Panic wakes her. She has no idea how long she's been out, or where she is. The sewers are large and stretch across the entirety of the city. She could be anywhere.

Her arms are bound with rope—not handcuffs that she could easily pick and release. It's as if Bane knows her every weakness. She flexes her muscles, determining the strength of the bonds. She realizes she's on something soft, but hard beneath, like a blanket on the floor. When she moves, her entire body aches. It is day-old pain, leading her to believe she has been in the same position for quite a long time. She cracks her eyes open to look into the blinding light of the room. After a moment her eyes adjust and she sees she is alone. And naked. Her feet are not bound, but there isn't much she can do, with her hands behind her back and tied to what feels like a pole. She manages to angle her body so that she is in a semi-sitting position.

Then she tries to get her bearings, forcing her headache pained mind to sift through memories and remember the way out. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, when the door opens.

Selina looks at the bulking man in the door and wishes she had pretended to be asleep. _He would have woken me up. _Something tells Selina that this man does not like to be kept waiting.

She glares at him, hoping that an _ounce _of her anger will reach him. _If looks could kill._ Most women would be unable to act this way after so extreme a sexual assault, but Selina knows that if she lets the fear paralyze her, she is already lost.

"You are not looking very well."

"Right back at ya," she retorts. He says nothing in response, so she asks, "Why am I tied up?"

"To keep you from scampering off. We have matters to discuss."

"Such as?"

"As I said last night, you will work for me."

"Why do you need me?" She asks. "I'm a jewel thief. I don't think those skills are very valuable to a terrorist."

"A terrorist…?" He says, as if mulling the word over in his head. "I aim not for terror. I am a liberator."

_Liberator. _The word means rescuer—savior. Selina currently feels anything but saved.

"You think I didn't see all those explosives? What kind of _liberator _uses bombs and guns?"

"One unwilling to stray from his goal." Bane approaches her. As he lowers himself beside her, his arms snake behind her back, to release the bonds on her wrists. A knife cuts through them, nicking her wrist. She stretches her hands as he pulls away, overly aware that he does not leave her side—his eyes do not leave her face.

"And your goal is…?" Selina asks, desperately trying to distract him from whatever thoughts towards her are pulsing through his head.

"To restore balance to the world, ultimately. But first, to free Gotham City of corruption. A storm is coming, Ms. Kyle."

"_Excuse _me?" _What the fuck does that mean? _

"A storm that will shake the fabric that is Gotham. The rich will be hauled into the gutters, the people will rise, and the city will sink lower than ever before. It is time to choose a side."

_Is he joking? _Did the mercenary really expect Selina to work for him after he _raped _her? The memory comes flooding back, and the apex of her thighs suddenly stings.

"Where exactly do I come into play with all this?" She snaps. "You don't know me. I do what I must to—"

"I know you plenty. You were born in the Narrows, but now you live in Old Town. A self-taught combatant. You steal from the rich, give to the poor and your criminal record weighs more than you do. Do you not ache to see those that stand wrongfully above you cut down—to see the current condition reversed?"

She does, of course she does, but that is hardly the issue with this situation. She sighs.

"Ok… _fine. _You know some trivia about my situation. But if you had _really _done your research you would know that I _work alone._"

Something flashes in his eyes, but then they crinkle. _Is that supposed to be a smile?_

"You did," he says simply as if that is the end of the matter. His back straightens suddenly and he moves away from her, allowing her to stand. _This guy is unbelievable. _Even in the face of fear, in memory of what he did to her hours before, she knows she can't give in, can't bow down. Her freedom is everything to her—without it should may as well lie dead in the gutters.

"If you think I will join ranks with your little pack, just because our goals coincide, you should know you are wrong. I have no interest in this save-the-world crap."

He glares at her. "Have I not yet made it clear that you do not have a choice?"

She smirks and raises her head a bit. "I suppose you'll have to kill me then."

He chuckles. The sound is chilling. "Now is not your time to die. You are worth far more to me alive than dead."

"You're out of luck." She is sullen and completely serious. She narrows her eyes, annoyed at his fixedness.

"Don't be so sure. There are many ways to break you." His eyes crawl down her naked body unabashedly before snapping back up to her face. His expression drastically darkens as he looks into Selina's eyes.

"Do you honestly believe _raping me again _is going to make me want to work for you?" Her voice is calm, but inside she is panicking. She doesn't even have her bladed heels on to protect herself, and if he touches her it's over.

"No," he says simply. "But it will undoubtedly inspire you to submit."

In a flash he's beside her, slamming her body back into the floor. This time he doesn't bother to wet her insides in the slightest as he lowers his pants and pushes into her. Selina's eyes wet with unwanted tears, but she blinks them away. She will _not_ cry in front of him. She will _not_ scream. She will _not_ show weakness. Within the confines of her mind she repeats this like a mantra. His clothes brush her breasts, making her nipples harden and ache. A silent gasp wisps past her lips, the bottom one quivering. She notices that throughout the entire thing, he has kept his eyes on hers. She scrunches up her eyes and turns her face to the side, away from him.

His hand lifts her head off the floor, then slams it down into the cement. "Look at me, Ms. Kyle._"_

_"No," _she retorts. His hand closes around her neck, simultaneously choking her and forcing her to face towards him once more. As the oxygen in her lungs runs out, she opens her eyes. They dart from left to right, looking anywhere but his face, but it is enough for him. He releases her throat. The aftershock of the choking leaves her reeling; she tenses and he groans.

It is different. The memory of the night before warps from the comparison of the two—the first time was an experiment. This time Bane actually enjoys himself, takes pleasure from it. She can tell by the way he actually touches her this time, rather than absently pounding into her from behind. He isn't fucking her body this time, he is fucking _her_.

By the time he finishes, a thick coat of sweat covers Selina and Bane has successfully squeezed a few whimpers and small screams from her lips. He moves away, still staring at her. Selina spits in his face before he gets too far. He calmly wipes it away with his thumb, then fists her hair, twisting her into an awkward kneeling position.

"Hmm… I must admit, I expected you to be difficult, and you have not disappointed me," he tells her.

"Oh, good," she croons. She manages to keep her voice normal, despite the fact she is exhausted and in pain.

"But I wonder how long you can keep this up? I may need to get creative."

She rolls her eyes and stands, forcing herself to ignore the shake in her knees. There was a book on the psychology of rape she once read. It discussed the idea of the rapist enforcing his dominance on the victim—not that Selina is a victim, she refuses to believe that. A rapist will often remain clothed while their victim is naked and will stand while the victim lays on the floor. Selina remembers this and though she is unable to clothe herself, she can at least stand level with him. Besides, she feels comfortable with her body, regardless of any bruises or scars he has caused.

His arm slams into her neck, forcing her painfully in place against the wall.

"There is nothing you can do…" he says. When he speaks so quietly, the words are practically indiscernible from the rasping sound of his breaths. "In Gotham, there is nowhere to hide from me, and if you try to leave Gotham, you'll be picked up by the authorities and brought straight back here—to me."

As she begins to gasp for air, he loosens his grip, just enough to control the flow of oxygen, to prolong, but not end the agony.

* * *

As it turns out, she can't keep it up for long. Within three hours he has her silently crying and begging—not screaming or sobbing, but she may as well be. For her, is it the equivalent defeat. In a fit of despair and pain and _wonder at how there can be so much cruelty in one man,_ she agrees to work for him, to serve him, unconditionally. It feels as if she is selling her soul to the devil. _Aren't I? _Who knows what the man has planned for Gotham—but it can't be good.

For good measure, and to truly ensure her submission to him, he locks her in a closet for three days. He gives her no food or water and injects her with a chemical that keeps her from sleeping. When he releases her, he fucks her again, then lays down the law of a land.

"You will obey my every command, without question. I will be made aware of your location at all times, and each evening you will return here. Do you understand?"

"_Yes…"_

"Very good. You may return home. I will see you at nightfall."

Selina stumbles to her feet, keeping her eyes down. Barsad awaits her in the doorway.

"Be warned, Ms. Kyle," Bane says. He catches her elbow in his hand and speaks threateningly into her ear. "If you cross me, and do not do as I have required, you will suffer the consequences… ten times over."

Selina looks up at him and nods. She just wants to go home and sleep. He releases her.

She can't escape him. Though Gotham is a large city, and she knows its every nook and cranny, it is too late to run. He is where she can never escape from; he is inside her—inside her being—her soul. She fears she will never be free. She looks around her, she sees the world, she sees the horizon, but all that is there is a cage.

When he lets her return home, after physically breaking her, she makes a resolution. She will endure everything he throws at her. She will suffer through whatever pain he provides and she will follow his every direction, but she will never break emotionally again. That is all she can do to keep herself safe. She will retain her identity.

* * *

**A/N **Whew! Ok. Really, guys, I promise. This story is more than a bunch of graphic rape. _I have plans. _It is going to get less intense in some ways and more intense in others.

I also don't normally write in present tense... Trying a bunch of new things with this story. I hope it doesn't sound awkward. xxx


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

She lives day by day. She lives through the pain, through the anger, through the hatred. She lives through it because if she doesn't she loses everything.

As does everyone, she falls into routine. During the day, she mostly sleeps. In the afternoon she dresses and goes around town, trying to absorb the lighter side of Gotham City.

Then, when the sun sets, she moves underground. She meets Bane in his bedroom and faces whatever horrors he has in store for her.

Selina learns very quickly that Bane was not bluffing when he told her there is nowhere to hide from him in Gotham. For one thing, he knows where she lives, so when she doesn't show up the first night, a mere three hours pass before three huge men come and warn her. That isn't a surprise, she expected him to know the location of her apartment, despite the fact the police are unable to do so.

What _is _shocking is that when she holes herself up in a friend's apartment on the other side of the city for three days, not stepping foot outside the place, he comes for her himself. He appears out of nowhere and doesn't even break down the door or shatter a window to get in—the bastard has a _key! _He drags her, kicking and screaming, back down to hell. There he beats her, and starves her for three days. _He can't blame me for trying. _

There are, of course, other times that she attempts to escape her situation. In the early days, she tries anything and everything she could think of.

Now, she is beyond struggle; it is no longer worth it. Bane somehow gains complete control of her. He demands to know her whereabouts at all times. Oftentimes she tells him where she is going and he rejects the idea. She comes to depend on him for everything.

Selina learns to deal with the sex—the fucking—the _rape_—whatever it is_. _She can get through that. She knows the act of sex is meant to have some sort of emotional connection, but she is far beyond that. For her, it never was anything more than another function of her body—something that could make her stronger, if she honed in her skills and used them to her advantage. Now, it is nothing but another form of physical abuse she must endure.

The beatings are a bit harder to handle. He does it often, once a week, generally. More at first, but as time passes the time in between grows larger and larger, allowing the bruises to completely heal. The intensity also wanes over time. Or perhaps she really is getting used to it.

Sometimes he gives a reason for it, accusing her of disrespect, impudence or some other misdemeanor, but more often not. He bruises her limbs and crushes her bones but he _never _leaves marks where other people will see them. He wants her to act as if she's working for herself, not for him. He wants her to be independent, or independent when he is not with her. Her face is always clear, while her breasts, back and stomach are painted black, blue and red.

Despite herself, she resents him for it. Though she knows she shouldn't think that way, she can't stop herself from wishing he would do something visible.

She hates herself more by the day. This isn't her. She has never, _ever _defined herself by a man, but suddenly it's as if that is all she knows—all she's ever known.

* * *

Bane's fingers trace her spine, pinching every few inches to keep her from relaxing. She doesn't know why he is always so adamant about her being tense around him. He wants her alert and present, even after he's done with her and he scans through piles of reports and maps.

"May I go?" She asks, when his hand skims the back of her neck for the hundredth time. She has no idea what time it is and is bored. He normally tells her when she can leave, but it feels as if she's been laying in his bed for hours.

His hand pauses between her shoulder blades. "No."

Maybe she should start bringing a book or something. _Would he let me read it? _She wonders to herself. It's unlikely.

A moment later, she hears the sound of paper smacking cement and before she can try to move he turns her onto her back.

"Come _on,_" she mutters. She knows he can hear her but she doesn't care. She honestly wants to go home. He rarely punishes her for sarcasm—sometimes she even thinks he appreciates it, the rest of his subordinates being so dull. That's what she is at this point: his subordinate. She does odd jobs around the city for him, things like spying on people and breaking into buildings to open doors for him from the inside. He really does know exactly what she is capable of. He knows how to use her, and when, most to his advantage.

His thumb brushes the nape of her neck, then moves to the underside of her chin, pushing her face up to look at him. She swallows hard against his hand.

She can't help herself anymore; her body reacts too easily. After the first couple weeks, he stopped making the fucking only about him and started forcing her to orgasm, painfully and startlingly, so that she would be sore from intense pleasure for hours after.

Eventually, she learned that if she stopped resisting it would be less excruciating. She knows she has it pretty good, everything considered. Bane is good at what he does, sexually and otherwise. So long as she does as she's told she manages to evade being beaten for the most part.

And Bane manages to ensure the situation isn't entirely one-sided. He has connections—connections that make her livelihood far easier. She has access to schedules and key cards that should only dreamed of before. He also manages to throw some of the detectives working to track her down off her tail. That, or he disposes of those involved and no one else wishes to take up the challenge. Selina doesn't really want to know which it is.

She pushes her quickly heating body flush against him, lips evading any part of him while her arms encircle his midsection, pulling him closer. She hates it—of course she does—but she also knows the other men she sleeps with, when it is necessary, are old and flabby and can barely move while she pleasures them. Bane is muscular and fit, more so than she would like, but it is, regardless, a welcome change.

_Welcome?_

She snorts silently, but the sound is severed when Bane pushes into her. She had not even noticed him remove his trousers. She hisses because she wasn't quite ready, but her moves on regardless. His breaths, muffled, yet intensified, by the mask, sound in her ear.

It hurts and she needs to get herself off before he leaves her in the dust. She manages to move her hand around his hips and brush against her clit, but the moment he realizes what she is doing he pulls out completely.

"Oh, _fuck,_" she mutters, glaring up at him.

"Is my cock not enough for you, Ms. Kyle?" He growls and she detects a very, _very _low level of sarcasm. But that is more than usual.

"Bane, just—"

She can't be certain, but part of her suspects that he reacts when she says his name so desperately. His hands fly to her breasts, pinching her nipples, and that's all it takes, shockingly enough. The motion slowly becomes more fluid against her arousal and she begins to enjoy herself, barely. The sex isn't exactly _good_—that would require Selina not _hating_ herself and her life during it. It is tolerable and she _does _enjoy the release.

Three minutes later, Selina orgasms for the third time that night. Bane comes minutes later, just as she finishes riding out her own pleasure, burying his cock in her as deep as it will go (which is quite impressive).

He rolls off her and recommences reading whatever ridiculously large file he had been mulling over before. He keeps his hands to himself.

Selina closes her eyes and realizes that this can't go on. If it does, he'll eventually tire of her and will kill her. Often, during times like this, when he's done with her for the night and lets her sleep in his bed, she wonders if what will happen first—will he become bored with her body or will he tire of her refusal to fully submit?

_Does it matter? _When it all comes down to it, does it matter which happens first?

She knows she's disposable. All his subordinates are—with the weird exception of the man called Barsad, who makes mistakes from time to time but never is eliminated. Every night she sees Bane kill one of his men. It isn't really out of anger, or punishment, he just doesn't seem to have a use for them anymore. So, he destroys them. _Like cleaning out the pantry. _But she isn't like them. She isn't prepared to die for whatever it is that Bane is trying to accomplish (which she still has close to no idea about).

She has been living through this hell for three months. They are three months of her life blown away. Three months that she will never get back. She refuses to let it go any farther than that. She refuses to die here, at his hands. In the back of her mind she remembers the last time she tried to get away, and the pain it resulted in. But as far as she's concerned, all those other attempts were just experiments. She has to think now. She has to plan ahead. She can't afford to act rashly.

She opens her eyes with a new resolve that she keeps carefully hidden behind a blank face.

"May I go _now?_"

* * *

**A/N **A little short... Thank you for all the kind reviews thus far. xxx


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings: **Um... torture? I think?

**Chapter 4**

She knows there is only one way out—to leave Gotham. But to do that she needs to erase her record. So she uses her underground connections to do some research. She finds a tech company based in Chicago called BTI that was rumored to be developing a program capable of erasing a person from every interface in the world. But the trail ends there, when Daggett Industries, a quickly growing company that started in pharmaceuticals then grew into a construction empire, snagged them up for the highest bid. As far as anyone seems to be able to tell, they use BTI solely for updating their mainframe. Eventually all the original BTI employees were either laid off or transferred to Gotham City, where they work in the stomach of Daggett Industries' corporate headquarters in the business district.

Selina spends every spare moment for two weeks trying to determine how to subtly make contact with someone inside Daggett Industries that would know about the program. At the end of the fourteen days, she receives word from an acquaintance that she needs to meet with someone from DI that night, to discuss terms.

She had no idea she would be meeting the CEO, John Daggett, but she does not let on. She nods to him, saying only his surname and sits stonily across from him. She needs to be in control of the situation.

"Selina Kyle, correct?" She inclines her head, asking him to speak quickly. "My associate tells me that you are looking for a program developed by BTI, before my company bought them?"

"I am. You have the finished program in your possession?"

He smiles. "Indeed and, for a price, I am willing to sell it to you."

She leans forward and taps her finger on the table impatiently. "How much?"

"Not for money. I was hoping you could pick something up for me."

She smirks, pleased that he knows who she is. "You mean… _steal?"_

"Not quite. I need Bruce Wayne's fingerprints."

_Interesting._ It isn't as if Selina Kyle has never copied someone's fingerprints before, but normally it is for her own gain, to make her harder to track, or to make it easier to break into a safe. She's never sold them before.

"When do you need them by?" She doesn't ask what he wants them for, because she doubts he's willing to share.

"Next week. You can pick them up during the Harvey Dent Day celebrations at the Wayne Manor. I can get you in as my date—"

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Daggett. I'm perfectly capable of getting in on my own. We'll be in touch."

She stands and Daggett pulls out his phone to make a call.

* * *

The Wayne Manor is, for lack of a better word, ridiculous. The grounds stretch farther than Selina's neighborhood and the building looks as if it is under the control of an old man that owns a shotgun specifically for democrats.

Of course, she knows that isn't true—the sole owner of the Wayne Manor is Bruce Wayne, a businessman-playboy-philanthropist that disappeared off the face of the planet eight years earlier. No one pays attention to him anymore. It was a bit far away from the downtown area for her taste. She did consider breaking in to his penthouse, once or twice, but according to her sources all the valuables left to him after his parents' death were kept in storage at the manor.

She gets away for the night by telling Bane she plans on robbing a safe in Wayne's side of the house. He agrees easily enough and Selina looks forward to swiping a couple things. She figures the best way to save time is to kill two birds with one stone is to get Wayne's fingerprints off the safe while she breaks into it.

Bane _kindly _uses his connections to get her into a maid position and she does choose to go on Harvey Dent Day, as so many extra maids are called in it is easy to blend in.

She carries the shrimp poppers that she wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole normally around on a platter, becoming steadily more annoyed at the politicians' and Gothamites' gawking. Daggett eyes her, surprised to see her there and she wants to slap him for his conspicuousness.

She manages to easily take over the job of one of the regular maids bringing Wayne his supper—the security in the place is terrible—and walks carefully up the stairs to the side of the house Wayne occupies.

She leaves the dinner on the table and breaks into the safe in a bit over three minutes. Only once she snags Wayne's fingerprints does she look through the contents. There isn't much—the will to the house and a couple jewelry boxes. Perhaps Wayne keeps most of his valuables elsewhere. There is, however, a gorgeous pearl necklace that she falls in love with instantly.

_I won't be selling this one, _she thinks as she does the clasp at the back of her neck. It hangs just below the front of her neck. She can't help but feel it suits her and suddenly she's in a good mood again, ambling about the room before she makes her escape, because there is no reason to hang around any longer, playing maid.

An arrow narrowly misses her ear and she jumps back. She stumbles on her heels. Instantly, her eyes are wet with tears and she is babbling a string of frightened apologies.

Then, "So… sorry… Mr. Wayne…" The man before her is tall, with hair that was likely once fashionable but has now grown out, along with his facial hair. He leans on a cane, but is, otherwise, perfectly healthy.

"You… don't have… long fingernails… or anything," she tells him, a bit awkwardly. She wipes a bit of liquid from beneath her eyelashes.

"Is that what they say about me?" He asks. His voice is stony, but calm. He doesn't feel threatened by her presence.

"It's just that… No one ever sees you…"

"Those are lovely pearls," he says suddenly. She keeps her face blank, because he isn't necessarily sure it's the same one. "My mother had a pair just like them. But they couldn't be the same ones, because that one is in a safe that the manufacturer assured me was _un_crackable."

He limps over to the safe and pushes it open with his cane. Then he turns back to her.

Selina drops the act. Her shoulder roll upwards and her eyes flutter fully open.

"Oops," she drawls. Her fingers skim the necklace. "No one told me it was _uncrackable_."

"I can't let you take that," he says, as if he could possibly stop her from doing so.

"Look," she says amiably, a smile on her face. She strides over to him. "You wouldn't beat up a woman just like I wouldn't beat up a cripple."

She kicks his cane out from under him. "But _sometimes _exceptions have to be made."

She moves up to the window, opening it quickly. "Good night, Mr. Wayne."

* * *

Selina spends the following twenty-four hours sexually pleasing a congressman she picked up—or, _was picked up by_—at the banquet. The man thinks he's in control, but eventually she has him drunk and drugged, making sure he doesn't call home. By noon the next day, Gotham's finest are searching everywhere for him, and he has no idea.

She arrives at the bar later, meeting Phillip Stryver instead of Daggett himself this time. She leads the man on her arm to the bar then sits across from DI's vice-executive. How Daggett manages to send him around like one of his dogs is beyond her.

She did not tell Bane she wouldn't be in the sewers that night. She knew he would say no, so she made no attempt to get permission.

Besides, the plan was to be out of Gotham by morning.

Or, that was the plan assuming Daggett didn't cross her, which she certainly did not assume. That was the whole purpose of the congressman.

"You brought a date?"

"I like having someone to open doors for me," she bites back.

"Do you have something for me?" Stryver asks. She withdraws an envelope and hands it to him.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, then puts the fingerprints into his jacket. Selina feels a shift behind her. She leans in.

"Do _you_ have something for me?"

"I don't think so."

She sighs and rolls her eyes. She really didn't want to have to come to this, but there's no other choice. "Look, I don't know what you need Wayne's prints for, but I'm guessing you'll need his _thumb…_ You don't count so good, huh?"

Stryver is fuming. "I count just fine. In fact, I'm counting to ten, right now."

The gun clicks behind her. _Fuck. _She nods and the man with the gun takes her purse, withdrawing the phone from it.

"Just press send. My friend is waiting outside."

A few moment's later her friend comes in, hands over the thumb print, and leaves.

"It would have been easier to just give me what you owe me," Selina murmurs.

"Yes, but even in _that dress_, no one is going to miss you."

"No…" She laughs to herself. She looks at her 'date.' "But every cop in the city is looking for _him."_

Recognition floods Stryver's face. "Why would they be looking in a place like this?"

"Oh, I don't know, you did just use his cell phone…"

The timing really couldn't be more perfect—the sirens outside are blaring and everything snaps into action. Stryver and his guard make to run off through the back and Selina shoots the bartender, who was almost certainly paid off, square in the chest. Once the police are inside she screams her head of, and the moment she sees an opening, she disappears into the night.

_Looks like I'll be sticking around for a while._

* * *

She _really _dislikes using the soap Bane has stocked in all the bathrooms, so before returning to the sewers she visits a 24-hour store and buys shampoo and soap that isn't as waxy as a candle, as well as some cleaning supplies so she can scrub out the shower.

She walks through the sewers, glaring at Bane's subordinates. They watch her curiously until she reaches what can only be described as Bane's room. It isn't very large, but it seems to be the biggest room in the place. There is a chair with wooden armrests and a musty couch that looks about sixty years old. In the corner is a mattress with nothing but white sheets strewn about it that serves as a bed to Bane and, oftentimes, Selina. Bane has his own attached bathroom with a dirty shower, a gross toilet and a tolerable sink.

Bane sits in the couch and holds a leather bound book open in one hand, no title as far as she can see.

"Sit down, Ms. Kyle." With his free hand he gestures to the seat across from him. She drops her bag of toiletries on the floor and sits, eyeing him a bit nervously. "I believe we have matters to discuss."

She sighs. "If this is about my being late, I had to sell some of Wayne's—"

"Silence. You honestly believe you can lie to me?" She flinches, but waits for him to specifically call her out. He could be bluffing.

"Tell me, what led you to believe Daggett would actually come through on his end?" _Damn. _

"You knew…?" She feels numb.

"Of course I knew." He speaks condescendingly, a tone she is becoming used to. "John Daggett and I have been working with one another for months—long before you stumbled into my little operation."

_That can't be true. _She ignores the fact he said 'stumbled' in light of a greater issue. _That would make this entire thing—_

"Was this a set up?" She has to try very hard to not raise her voice at him.

He narrows his eyes nevertheless. "What if it was? What difference would it make?"

He eyes her and she realizes he has been sitting up and spreading himself out, making himself look bigger. He wants to intimidate her. She stands.

"Was it?"

He finally rolls his eyes and looks away. "I know nothing about Daggett's little pet project. Whatever you _think _he has is beneath my concern."

_Good. _She wonders if that means she won't be punished. She groans to herself and picks up the plastic bag again, leaving to stock the bathroom.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Bathroom…?"

"Perhaps I should have made myself more clear—my interest in Daggett's computer program _starts and ends _with the fact that you seemed very keen on getting your hands on it. Why would that be, I wonder?"

She thinks about running, but he would catch her before she even reached the end of the hallway.

"I want an answer to that."

She plants her feet and faces him head on. "I want to erase my criminal record."

"Why?" He stands and takes a couple steps towards her.

"What criminal wouldn't want to?" She snaps. He pauses.

"I think you want to clear your record so you can get out of Gotham… Away from me."

She closes her eyes as he circles behind her. He's going to hit her. She can feel it.

"Is that true?" She shifts silently onto the tall heels of her shoes. He slaps her from behind. Her body jerks to the side, but she doesn't show pain.

"_Yes," _she grinds out.

He sighs. "Was I not clear enough, Ms. Kyle?"

"You were plenty clear." She feels snarky and angry tonight—likely due to the fury at Daggett crossing her. She wonders what he'll do to punish her. Absently, she hopes it won't be something that shows. She has plans for the next evening, plans that require her to have a good face.

"Take your clothes off," he orders. His accent bleeds into his words more than usual in his anger. She turns around and looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, you mean you don't want to do the honors?" His expression doesn't change and she undresses down to her bra and panties. He makes a motion with his hand indicating to take the rest off, but she refuses to oblige.

"Very well. This will do," he says mildly and, before she can react, he grabs her around the middle and drags her to the other side of the room. He restrains her hands to a pole, forcing her into an awkward standing position. "If you think you can wipe everything clean and start over fresh, I'll have to give you something a bit more permanent."

_"What? _No!" She says, craning her neck to look at him. "Bane—stop! How am I supposed to work if—"

He shoves a piece of fabric into her mouth. _No, no, no! _Part of her ability to rob the rich was dependent on her ability to seduce men. If she was forever marked, how could she do so? She writhes, still unsure how exactly he means to mark her.

One second his hands close around her hips, and he orders her to keep still, and the next there is a knife pressing into her back. She screams as loudly as she can, but the sound barely breaches the fabric stuffed in her mouth.

It goes on for ages. Just when she feels as if he's done, he starts up again, carving a new line into her skin. Then she hears the knife clatter to the floor and he removes the gag from her mouth.

"Wh-what did you d-do?" She stutters. Warm blood still pours down her back. She feels faint from blood loss. The cuts sting when he presses a washcloth into them. "What did you write?!"

"Hmm…" He murmurs. It sounds as if he is appreciating his penmanship. "Would you like to see for yourself?"

Without waiting for her response he unties her wrists and wraps his arms around her shoulders, carefully carrying her into the bathroom. Once there, he hoists her up onto the counter and motions for her to look in the mirror behind her. The letters are backwards in the mirror, but she can clearly see what they are.

Scrawled across her back, with dripping, bloody lettering are the letters _B-A-N-E_.

Selina slumps against her torturer, as the faintness of blood loss overcomes her.

* * *

**A/N **Ok. So we are finally in the actual movie timeline. Cool right? I reworked where I had the chapter cut-offs, meaning I have less chapters written, but each will be longer. I hope that's preferable to you all. I didn't like the last chapter being so short, so this one is longer and the next one will be very long.

You guys are the best. The reviews make me so happy. xxx


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N **I have seen The Dark Knight Rises four times and I still can't get the conversation between Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne at the ball 100% right. Please forgive me for any mistakes. Thank you for all the reviews.

**Chapter 5**

She wakes in her own bed, back in her apartment. She lies on her stomach and sunlight drips through the window. Her eyes follow the light and meet a pit of darkness. She jerks backwards, but finds her arms are bound to the headboard.

"What—?"

"Relax," he says, leaning forward. He cuts her wrists free. "I tied you down only to make sure you did not open your wounds in your sleep."

On cue, the pain in her back flares up. She notices she's naked, but she doesn't pay it much mind. Instead she places a hand on her lower back, feeling the bandages stretched across the area.

"You… are… _sick…_" She whispers. Bane's eyes widen in annoyance. "Don't think this changes anything! Just because you _branded me._ You can do whatever you want to me—and I _know _you will—but I will _never _stop trying—"

He slams her back into the bed, successfully silencing her rant. "This… is the end of an era, Ms. Kyle. I don't care if you rob the rich, but you will give yourself to no other man. I have marked you to make sure of it."

He pauses and turns her onto her stomach again. His fingers brush over the wounds, making her whine. "You say it doesn't matter what I do. You say you will try regardless. I admit, I believed shortening your leash by putting my claim on you would quash any attempts you may wish to make, but apparently greater initiative is necessary."

He leans in close, so his metal mask presses into her ear. "If I ever find out that you tried to escape from me again, you will receive far worse than a couple scars on your back."

She rolls her eyes where he can't see.

"Do you _understand?" _

"Yes. I fucking understand."

"Good…" He moves away from her again.

"My roommate!" She yells suddenly, looking wildly at Bane.

"Is currently out, I believe. She didn't see us come in." _Thank god. _Selina's roommate does not know about her relationship with Bane and Selina has no plans for her to find out.

"Why did you bring me back here?" He has never been in her apartment before, as far as she knows. Normally, he sends Barsad for her. She can't say she is content with him being there. He stands tall above her ancient furniture and stolen treasures.

This is the first time she has seen the sun touch his skin. The image is a bit grounding, and it births something small and unsettling inside her, as if before he had only been a nightmare.

"You need to prepare for Miranda Tate's Charity Ball tonight, correct?" He asks. She nods, surprised he would be so considerate of her plans after what she did—tried to do.

"I will leave you then," he said curtly. "I expect you to return to the sewers when you're done, which should be early considering your new body art."

"Get out," she says, but he's already gone.

She sits up from her bed and checks the clock. It is 4:30 in the afternoon. She had been asleep for at least sixteen hours. She wonders how long Bane had been there with her, watching her sleep.

She closes her eyes and pushes those thoughts from her mind. She has to pull herself together. There is no time to shower, so she dresses in a simple black dress and fixes her hair in front of the mirror. Then she sees the pearl necklace stolen from Bruce Wayne. She really does like it. It is simple and glamorous. She couldn't bear to part with it. She attaches it around her neck.

Then she looks into the mirror. She doesn't look any different than she did six months earlier. But she feels different, and now she has a physical difference hidden beneath her dress—Bane's name, carved into her flesh. She feels physically exhausted and wonders if it is really worth going to the party tonight, to possibly steal some rich man's prized possessions.

But she can't let herself go numb. She has to continue on as if nothing is wrong. That is all she can do.

* * *

By the time she is ready to go, night has fallen in Gotham. She takes a taxi, confident that she will be able to make up the difference after the night's winnings. About halfway there she realizes that thanks to Bane's sudden possessive change of heart, she may be unable to do so.

When she arrives, she is in a bad mood. After circling around to the back, she puts on a haughty face rather than her usual meek one. Thankfully, it works with the cleaning staff, who seem to be more worried about offending someone of high class than letting the wrong person in. Their frightened faces make Selina inwardly guilty and she makes a mental note to find out where they live and drop some small gifts some time.

Once inside the ballroom, she grabs a flute of champagne and pours half of it into a flower pot. The last thing she ever needs is the distraction of alcohol. She knows it could be nice, to feel a bit more relaxed, for a night, but she has a job to do.

Across the room, she spots a man standing by himself. He looks about seventy, possibly older, obviously retired with the exception of a possible position on a board. Very conservative. Made his fortune immorally, no doubt. She moves a bit closer to him and learns his name and business by the people that talk to him. Then, she googles everything there is to know about him on her phone. She learns his entire history, including the fact his wife passed away three hears ago. Fifteen minutes after seeing him, she approaches him with an educated question that she already knows the answer to. He answers and she begins flirting. As she does this, she tries to figure out a way to rob his jewels without sleeping with him. It will be difficult. _Perhaps if I get him drunk enough, he won't notice? _

That's unlikely. He isn't holding any alcohol currently and the scars on her back are obviously bandaged. Not very attractive. Furthermore she doesn't want to know what Bane will do if she breaks that particular rule so soon after its issuing.

Work is relaxing. This is what she's good at. This is what she likes: stealing from the rich. If Bane had not forced his way into her life, she would be attending every possible event, making her way easily. Now, she is forced to cut back on giving to the poor in order to pay the bills.

Of course, she has no intention of doing this forever. She started stealing out of necessity and hopes to 'retire' one day soon. She had hoped to leave Gotham years ago, but things spiraled out of control and she found herself jailed multiple times. Now, there is no going back. Thinking about it, getting her hands on the program would have killed two birds with one stone.

_But that's a bust now. _For the entirety of her thought process, she converses with the man, slowly pulling him into her web. He asks her to dance and she agrees, blinking up at him in a mix of weak seduction and nervousness—both fake, of course. They move their conversation to the dance floor.

"Do you mind if I borrow her?" A familiar voice asks from behind her. The man with his arm on her hip looks annoyed, but hands her over to none other than Bruce Wayne.

"You don't look pleased to see me," Wayne drawls.

She doesn't respond as he places his hand tightly on her lower back. He unwittingly presses it into the scars in order to keep her from running off and she has to keep herself from wincing. "That's a brazen costume for a cat burglar."

"Yeah?" She finally manages to speak. "And who are you pretending to be?"

"Bruce Wayne, philanthropist billionaire."

"Here to arrest me?"

"No. I have a powerful friend that takes care of things like that for me. Who's your date?"

"Ex-CEO of a large architectural firm." She doesn't bother lying to him. Bruce Wayne knows exactly what she is. If he wanted her locked up he would have already done so. Absently, she wonders what drew him out of his cave. "His wife is vacationing in Ibisa_. _He's worried his diamonds might get stolen…"

He laughs. "It's pronounced _Ibiza. _You wouldn't want anyone in this room finding out you're a crook—not a social climber."

Her eyes flash. "You think I care what anyone in this room thinks of me?"

"Ms. Kyle, I don't think you care what anyone in _any _room thinks of you."

"Don't condescend, Mr. Wayne," she warns. She lets her face go a bit more in order to get the message across. "You don't get to judge me because you were born in the master bedroom of the Wayne Manor—"

"Actually I was born in the Regency Room."

"You don't know a thing about me." This bantering is getting on her nerves.

"Well, I know you took a cab up here from your apartment in Old Town. I know you have a criminal record and that the police are closing in on you, which tells me either that you enjoy stealing or that you're in deep with the wrong people."

_How right you are, Mr. Wayne._

"Please, Mr. Wayne. I think I'd do more to help a person than anyone in this room."

"That's a bit judgmental," he replies, but she can see the agreement in his eyes.

"You start out doing what you have to. Once you do what you have to, they never let you do what you want to."

"Sounds like you need a fresh start." _What?_

"Please! There's no fresh start in today's world. Everything we do is corroborated and collaborated; any 12-year-old with a cell phone can find out what you've done."

"There's a storm coming, Mr. Wayne," she says, using Bane's words. She leans in. "You and your friends better batten down the hatches, because when it hits, you're all gonna wonder how you ever thought you could live so large and leave so little for the rest of us."

"You sound like you're looking forward to it."

She shrugs. "I'm adaptable."

Wayne gives away nothing, appearing neither shocked nor impressed. "Those pearls do look better on you than in my safe, but I still can't let you take them."

He reaches his arms around her neck and unclasps the pearl necklace that she had been slowly growing attached to. A pang of bitterness that he's taking it hits her. She isn't used to things being stolen back.

She leans in to kiss him, a technique not stolen from her by Bane (yet), and snatches his valet card from inside his pocket. Then she strides away.

She does not like Bruce Wayne. The man is haughty and ridiculous and he thinks himself better than her. She is angry that she had to spend an entire dance with him—so angry that only taking his car and going a hundred mph through every traffic light with a camera can calm her.

She eventually gets bored and drops the vehicle two blocks away from the most convenient sewer entrance. She wipes her fingerprints from every surface and leaves it, keys and all. The man ruined her attempt at the old money's jewels and she is pissed.

The majority of the walk down to Bane she is fuming. Only as she gets closer does the memory of the night before catch up with her. The scars on her back are stinging again, whatever pain killers he gave her are wearing off. She wonders if her punishment is over. When he left her apartment, the situation was a bit open ended.

As she walks through the door, she feels her pulse begin to race.

"Oh, good, Ms. Kyle. Clean up your blood in the bathroom, please. There is quite a mess."

She takes a shaky breath, calming herself as anger rears its ugly head once more. _Pick your battles, Selina. _

Kicking off her heels, she grabs cleaning supplies from the bag she brought the night before, discarded on the floor, and spends twenty minutes vigorously rubbing her own dried blood out of the sink and off the mirror. When she's done, she sits in the chair across the room from Bane. He hasn't moved—still reading something about stocks and security.

Selina tucks her feet beneath her and gazes into the corner thinking about a book _she_ read about stocks the year before. When she snaps out of it, Bane is looking at her, book placed aside.

"Yes?" She asks sweetly. He raises an eyebrow at her.

"Come here." He extends his hand to her as he speaks and she once again chooses to oblige. After last night and earlier today, Selina feels as if she is on the tipping point of something terrible. She possesses no desire to nearly die from blood loss, or worse.

A sudden realization hits her. Something changed between them last night. She can feel the difference in the tension between them; there is a shift. It is no longer just him using her skills and raping her from time to time. _Ok, a bit more than 'from time to time'._ He claimed her. He told her he didn't want her fucking other men. He always knew that she did so—it was in the job description. She wasn't exactly a whore, but she got around and used her body as needed.

For whatever reason, Bane had decided to enforce monogamy on Selina. She wants to ask why, but the moment she reaches him his hand closes around her wrist. Her knees fall forward into the couch and he pulls her body through to lay across his lap. She doesn't bother to struggle. His actions are too gentle—or, at least, as gentle as Bane is capable of—for him to beat her. For at least a short while, she is safe.

Selina tries to relax as warm hands unzip her dress and move down her spine to where the bandages are. He slowly peels them away as Selina whimpers from the pain. When he _finally _rips the last one off, quickly, she hisses and moves her arms up to buck against his hands. She is easily restrained.

Then she looks down and sees the discarded bandages on the floor. They are yellowish with red bits. On a couple she can see bits of letters imprinted backwards. She gags silently.

"I believe you are just short of needing stitches, Ms. Kyle," he tells her.

"_Wonderful." _She speaks sarcastically, but she truly is pleased. She knows Bane is incapable of doing it himself and she dreads anyone else seeing the scars. Too many of Bane's lackeys already know that he's fucking her; they don't need to know that he carved his name into her ass as well.

He leans over her and grabs a box of fresh bandages off the floor and sets to work. By this point, the painkillers have completely worn off, so Selina twitches uncomfortably against him, every touch like another knife in her skin.

When he finishes he gently moves her off his knees and onto the floor. A headache begins to take its hold on her. She doesn't move, hoping desperately that it will stop the pain of her body attempting to heal itself. What feels like hours and days later, she feels Bane's hand against her shoulder.

"Take these." He gives her two pills and a glass of water. She wants to say something snarky about him drugging her, but instead she just takes the pills and closes her eyes again.

She only opens them again when her body lifts into the air. She doesn't like being carried, especially by him, and she makes it known through her glare. He does something surprising: he laughs. Then he settles her on the mattress. Before wrapping the sheets around her, he removes her dress and undergarments and pulls a t-shirt over her head. She feels rather than sees the fabric pool around her body, and knows from the scent that it is Bane's.

She lets her mind slip away for a moment.

* * *

She wakes to the sheets being pulled away from her body. Her eyes fly open and she realizes that a large amount of time must have passed because she neither feels any pain in her back, nor is unable to look into light due to the searing headache. The painkillers work well.

Bane stares down at her with dark eyes. He has stripped himself of his shirt and his fingers touch the hem of the shirt on her, which she now sees is gray and full of holes.

"Off."

"My back hurts," she says.

"You will be fine," he replies, and tugs the hem of the shirt again. He knows the painkillers eliminate any pain and she thinks it a bit off that he waited until they took affect to touch her.

"I have a headache."

He stops asking and strips her of the shirt himself, throwing it to the side as his eyes rake over her naked form. He glues a hand to her breast, his erection pressing into her stomach through his tan pants.

"I don't want this," she tells him. It won't stop him, nothing will, but at least when she says the words she can pretend it's rape.

His hand crawls from her breast to her neck and squeezes lightly.

"Yes you do."

There is something about his hand on her neck that makes her lose control. Maybe it's the fear of death that Selina holds deep inside her, because she _knows _Bane could snap her neck in an instant. Life is short; you only life once; all that doesn't know _why _that feeling would make her want to fuck, but it does. And Bane knows it.

She moves her fingertips to his chest and runs them down past his abdomen and his navel, to where the waistband of his pants stretches across his toned hips. Abandoning the illusion of assault, she shoves it out of the way and closes her hand around his cock. He groans lightly, but pulls her hands away once he is naked. His fingers close around both of her wrists and pins them above her head, asserting his dominance once her has the minimum consent—though why he demands any is beyond her, as he never used to.

This doesn't make any sense. He branded her not even 36 hours ago, but she gives in to him as willingly as ever (which, in her defense, isn't very).

He leans forward as he pushes into her, so their eyes are ridiculously close and are forced to lock. She doesn't like it. He can't kiss her, but the intense eye contact is practically the equivalent. She moves to the side and presses her forehead into his shoulder.

He instantly picks up speed to make her pant against him. In her tired state, she doesn't last very long.

When Selina orgasms, moments before he does, she latches her mouth onto the crook of his neck and sucks, hard. He makes an angry, feral sound, but makes no move to force her to stop. She continues to suck, barely stopping for air, until he comes. She only breaks off the contact when he pulls out of her and releases her wrists.

"What was that?" He asks, placing his index finger against the mark, where her saliva still shines. Selina can see the smirk in his eyes. She looks at the bright red mark on his barely tanned skin and a million responses go through her mind, not one of them truthful, but that's what comes out.

"I marked you."

The snide smile fades and Selina regrets speaking. She turns away, feeling him move to her ear.

"It will fade," he growls. _Will it? _She turns back to him, face blank.

"Well, I can't very well _carve my name _into your back, now can I?" He raises an eyebrow and slumps into the mattress.

As she turns away from him to sleep once more, her mind starts working.

_What am I going to do? _

For whatever reason, Bruce Wayne's face flashes through her mind. She hates him, she really does, so why does she suddenly feel inspired by him? Inspired to try again—to never give up. She can't dispute that the man gives off some weird vibes, maybe this is one of them. But regardless, it does the trick and her words from that morning come back to her.

_Never stop fighting._

* * *

**A/N **RIGHT. So I'm going on a trip this weekend, so I doubt the next chapter will be up until Monday or Tuesday. _Technically_, it is already written, but I like to keep two full chapters ahead of what's published in case I want to change something. xxx


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Bane gives her a supply of painkillers for her to take on her own over the next few days. She doesn't know what they are, but she feels a bit buzzed after a while, so she assumes it is some derivative of Oxytocin. She tries not to think about the fact she is on drugs as she wipes the pain away, pill by pill.

After Bane leaves to go wherever it is he goes, Selina sets about planning again. Bane's comments give her hope that the program really does exist somewhere—he just told Daggett not to give it to her. That means it is likely hidden somewhere close to the president of DI. She puts on her cat suit and researches Daggett Industries' layout. By the looks of it, there are various safes on the top floor, where Daggett's office is.

She arrives in a disguise around four o'clock p.m., and gets up to the 39th floor easily. Daggett's office is on the 40th floor, so she changes and stakes out there until about six o'clock in the evening.

While she waits, she catches a bit of the news. Bane has taken a group of men to the Stock Exchange. She's a bit shocked to see him there, on the motorcycle (and she knows it's him, despite the helmet). He has never made such a public appearance before. No one knows who he is, of course.

According to the line of text at the bottom of the screen, he broke in about twenty minutes earlier and held everyone there hostage. It is currently unknown how many are dead, with it is at least a few.

_So that's what that stocks book was all about…_

She continues keeping her eye trained on the TV when she moves upstairs after nightfall. In the other room, she hears Stryver and Daggett talking about Bane. She realizes idiocy for not seeing that they were working together. All the Daggett Construction logo hats that some of the men wore. Selina assumed they had picked them from the garbage but now she sees the connection.

As she begins cracking the final safe (the first two were busts) the Batman shows up. She almost drops what she's doing to rush to the screen. How many years has it been since he killed Harvey Dent? Seven?

No, eight.

It is a bit weird that he chose tonight to show up. Crime, especially extreme crime like this, had grown sparse, but it still happened sometimes. Why was this so important?

_Is it because of Bane? _What does the Batman know about Bane?

The safe opens and it's empty; she's pissed.

She moves to the other side of the room, beside the door, when she hears Daggett's voice from the hallway.

"Can we get some girls in here?!"

"Careful what you wish for," Selina responds. She grabs Daggett by the collar and drags him over to the wall, beside the open safe.

"I want what you owe me," she hisses.

"You dumb bitch…" Daggett smirks at her, looking behind her.

"No one's ever accused me of being _dumb _before…"

"You are. You're _dumb. _To come here tonight."

Then she hears the gun click.

"Nice shoes…" Stryver says. "Do they make it hard to walk?"

She kicks him in the groin. "I dunno… Do they?"

She grabs the gun and cocks it at Daggett's ugly face. There's a sound behind her and she runs for it, dragging Daggett behind her. She lands on the fire escape and lets it drop below.

"Where _is it?_"

"What? The clean slate? The program where you put a person's name and date of birth and it erases them from every database in the world?"

Selina hears the sarcasm in his voice and grabs him by the collar.

"Sound a little too good to be true?"

"You're _lying!" _She says in his face. He has to be lying. "BTI was developing it—"

"And I bought the company," Daggett finishes. "But they had… nothing…"

Selina tried to comprehend this knowledge—to decide if he's lying or not—but before she can say anything else to him she hears movement behind her. She puts the gun to Daggett's head and backs away from the circle of men. They continue on without a care.

"I'm not bluffing!" She shouts. Then she recognizes one of the men. _Bane's dogs. _

_How does he know I'm here? _

"They know…" A deep voice says from behind her. "They just don't care!"

She looks up. _The Batman. _

He jumps down as realization hits her. She snaps into action, disabling the men coming at her. She prepares to shoot when Batman hits her gun out of her hand.

"You've got to be kidding me!" She yells. She looks up at him incredulously.

"No guns—no killing."

"What's the _fun _in that?!" She snarls, pissed at him getting in her way. He turns away from her and stalks towards the ledge, motioning for her to follow. She does, but when she turns, for a split second, she sees Bane. His eyes are aflame as he stalks towards her. He knows what she was doing at Daggett's. She can't deal with this right now.

Without a second thought, she flips over the ledge, landing perfectly in the Batman's—what is it exactly?

"My mother warned me about getting into cars with strange men…" She drawls.

"This isn't a car," he says, and it leaps into the air. As they fly away from the scene, Selina looks down and sees Bane, watching. _I'm going to pay for that later…_

But she stops herself from thinking about it. Instead she appreciates the Gotham City skyline as she and the Batman soar high above it. Despite everything, she loves the city. She has always loved it; it is her home.

They land and Selina immediately unbuckles herself.

"See you around," Selina says, hopping out of her seat.

"You're welcome." _He sounds pissed, _Selina muses. She turns back and smirks at him.

"I had it under control."

"Those weren't street thugs!" The Batman says, exasperatedly. "Those were trained killers. I saved your life. In return I want to know what you used Bruce Wayne's fingerprints for."

She rolls her eyes. What is it with men, these days? "He wasn't kidding about a powerful friend… I sold them to Daggett…" Then she smacks herself mentally. "For something that doesn't even exist."

"Any idea what he is using them for?"

"He didn't tell me, but he seemed pretty interested in the incidents at the stock exchange today…"

The Batman turns to look up as a helicopter moves a bit too close for comfort and she sneaks off before he can turn back around.

* * *

_Who is the Batman?_ She wonders as she walks home.

Try as she may, she can't seem to get him off her mind. She was young the last time he was seen, and innocent. He had been a hero in Gotham for quite a long time. After he murdered Harvey Dent that night, eight years ago, a large part of the city turned against him. Selina Kyle was a member of the portion that really couldn't care less. Shortly after Dent died, and the Dent Act was passed the streets began being cleaned up. Selina made the mistake of thinking she could more easily take advantage of the rich. She quickly honed in her skills and began making a better life for herself and others, when she could manage.

Unfortunately, she was a bit too conspicuous. She earned the nickname 'the Cat,' in the tabloids, and has a huge bounty on her. The police picked her up various times, but she broke out every time. In the Gotham City of today, where the rich are able to do as they please and there is less danger than ever before, Selina Kyle serves as the villain of the city, at least in the eyes of the Gothamites. The lower classes, of course, understand that while 'the Cat' steals valuables from those who have plenty, there is no explanation _but _'the Cat' for the massive amounts of money that find their way to their doorsteps.

Of all the things she had considered plausible, being aided when she was in a tough spot by _the Batman _was not one of them. But only hours after he appeared on the television, that was precisely what he had done.

Selina knows she is not a bad person, not really. She has blood on her hands, but she does everything for a reason. When she kills someone, it is because it is necessary. She is not sadistic, not like Bane. Although, in Bane's eyes, he likely believes he kills for a greater purpose as well.

Liberation, or maybe cleansing the world of filth.

_Bull. _

_Shit._

She knows for a _fact _that the only good Bane has done in the entirety of his stay is employ dozens of orphans. _And then murder them one by one in cold blood. _

But she digresses. Batman. Who is he? Bruce Wayne probably knows. She doubts the Batman would be so keen to help Wayne out if he wasn't a friend or something like that.

What was he doing at Daggett's? That's easier to answer. According to the news, he had made his getaway from 13th Street before heading north, straight into the business district. From where Selina was standing with Daggett, it would have been easy enough to see her from the sky.

_He didn't seem like a murderer. _He had hit the gun out of her hand. That matched the Batman from before the Dent Murder—100% against killing.

Racking her brain over the Batman problem, she finds herself in the same position as the media, the police and the government for the past 10+ years. She knows that if she tried to investigate the vigilante, she would come up with nothing. Better minds than her had tried.

* * *

She doesn't sleep that night. By the time she stumbles back into her apartment, the sun is rising on the horizon, which she can only barely see through a distant gap in the buildings. With the sun's appearance, a strange feeling slips into her soul, one she cannot seem to shake no matter how hard she tries. Something is going to happen, in Gotham City. She can feel it. Bane's revolution, or whatever it is, is just around the corner. She is running out of time.

_But until what? _She has no desire to wait and find out.

Bruce Wayne (speak of the devil) shows up at her house as she's packing. Her roommate makes a fuss, but Selina lets him in. She watched the news that morning and knew he had lost everything on the stock market the night before.

"My powerful friend wants to see you," he tells her. "Tonight. He says it'll be worth your while."

She pauses. Her short meeting with Batman had been entertaining, but she didn't particularly like him. She had no desire to meet again.

"I'll think about it…" She says. One more time can't hurt.

"I like your place… I suppose I can't change your mind about leaving?" He asks, out of the blue.

_Why does he care? _She looks at him and shrugs. He turns to leave.

"Mr. Wayne…" She says, making him turn back. "I'm sorry they took all your money."

He stares, looking through her. "No you're not."

She laughs to herself as he leaves.

An hour later, Barsad shows up. "Bane wants to see you."

"_Now?_" _Fuck. _She thought she could get out before he showed up. "In the middle of the day? Doesn't he know I have a life outside his little freak show?"

Barsad says nothing and Selina knows there isn't a way out of it. She can go to him, or she can wait for Bane to come get her himself and suffer his wrath. Luckily Barsad doesn't come into her apartment and see her clothes strewn about a suitcase. She grabs her suit and goggles, just in case, and follows Barsad into the sewers.

* * *

"I want you to bring me the Bat," he says when she approaches him. He doesn't look at Selina, as if he has no time to waste on her. "When you meet with him tonight."

She doesn't ask how he knows the Batman wants to see her. She has suspected for a while that he bugs her apartment, to keep tabs on her, and she knows better than to attempt to dismantle them. _Why doesn't he mention me planning on leaving, then? _There must be a hole in his knowledge, somehow.

"You think he will just follow me? We've only met once, when your _stupid _dogs tried to kill me."

"He'll trust you. He has buried himself in his idealized belief in the _good natures _of people…" He pauses, as if remembering something. "Furthermore he has a soft spot for beautiful women."

_Did he just call me beautiful? _Selina grasps onto that one small word with all she has. He never praises her.

"Why do you want to see him?"

"We have business to discuss." She doesn't know why she bothered asking. He never tells her his plans. She only ever gets half the story. But she agrees, as she always does, because what else can she do?

After she's changed and ready to leave, he grabs her shoulder roughly.

"Do this right…" he growls in her ear. "And I shall _consider_ allowing what happened last night to slide."

She tenses. She assumed that she was not being punished. Apparently that is not the case. She can't say she's surprised.

* * *

So that evening, Selina awaits Batman in the tunnel beneath the city. It was easier than expected. He flat out asks her to take him to Bane. Her conscience tells her that makes it ok.

She ushers him through the tunnels. She surveys his technique and appreciates it, but in the back of her mind she wonders what Bane wants him for.

Finally, she points through the final doorway. He steps through and she closes the gate behind him.

"I had no choice," she whispers to Batman. She's being honest.

The Batman looks at her and there is something grounding in his eyes. Something that makes her regret every stupid decision she has ever made.

"You just made a serious mistake," he tells her. He doesn't look scared yet.

"Not as serious as yours, I fear…" Bane's voice comes from behind the Batman, on the walkway that stretches between them. Selina doesn't look around the man in front of her to see him. She knows what is there. Batman turns around and looks at Bane, his back to Selina.

"Let us not stand on ceremony… Mr. Wayne."

Shock pulses through her. _Bruce Wayne. The Batman. _Bruce Wayne _is _the Batman.

Bane knew. He probably always knew. She thinks back and everything comes together. Batman and Bruce Wayne, simultaneously disappearing eight years ago. The shit at the stock market, then Bruce losing his money. Bruce tracking her down. Him knowing Batman.

With a start, Selina realizes that she loves him, and marvels at how something so momentous—she has never loved before, nor been loved—could happen so quickly. As Batman he was too mysterious, as Wayne too cocky, selfish, rich, but as both, Bruce is everything. He sacrifices everything for those around him. He tries to be the man that Gotham needs him to be—and in the end Selina disappointed him.

As the men fight, Selina shatters, because it doesn't matter _what _she feels. It never has. Bane destroys Wayne—the Batman—_Bruce. _He is possibly dead and there is nothing she can do about it.

She runs.

* * *

**A/N **Thank you again to everyone reviewing. Kind of gliding on a cloud from all the love. It should probably be known that on Saturday, I fly to Europe, then the next week I start university. I'm not sure if that means updates will be slower or not. Usually I forcibly pace myself so I'm only posting every two days, but I always feel like I could post three chapters in a day. But we'll see. Not sure how busy I will be. I'll keep you guys updated. xxx


	7. Chapter 7

**Warnings: **Rape

**Chapter 7**

She has to get out. Watching Bane destroy Batman—_Bruce_—was the breaking point. She can't stay and watch the city fall to him completely, because with the absence of Batman that is all that can happen. And she knows her window of opportunity is closing. The next morning, she puts on a dark dress and a hat, to shield her identity and still blend in. She goes to the airport and uses all the funds of her largest bank account to buy a ticket on the first flight out of the city.

She knows the police are after her, but doesn't panic. Things would be so much worse if Bane suspects she is running. One follows after her and she corners him in a storage room, nearly making her miss the flight. Finally, she hands the woman her ticket and moves down the hall to the plane. Escape is in sight.

Then a man steps out from a corner. At first she doesn't panic—he wears a suit like any other man at the airport—then he holds up his badge. _Detective. _For a split second she considers taking him out. Then she realizes the crowd amassing behind her. If she attacked him, they would never let her on the plane, it would just be digging herself into a deeper hole.

She sighs and gives herself up. The detective—John Blake—asks her some questions.

"I showed your picture to the congressman. Guess what."

"Don't tell me… still in love?" She speaks sarcastically. No one will deny her this small pleasure.

"_Oh, _head over heels…Pressing charges though." She rolls her eyes. "You've made some mistakes, Ms. Kyle."

Isn't _that _the truth. He slams her file, in its glorious, immense entirety, down on the table between them. "Girl's gotta eat."

"And you have an appetite…" Selina doesn't like this officer—not that she really _likes _any cops. He's young, just a new upstart probably. How he was made a _detective _so quickly is beyond her. "Why would you run? You can't hide from us with a record like this."

"Maybe it's not you I'm running from…"

"Who then? Bane? What do you know about him?"

She pauses. What _does _she know about him?

"That… you should be as afraid of him as I am."

"We can offer you protection." She rolls her eyes at him and he stands. "When I spotted you, I was looking for a friend of mine. Bruce Wayne…Did they kill him?" Selina wants to cry, but she doesn't. That would be stupid, and childish, and she knows not to show her emotions in front of a man.

"I'm not sure."

* * *

A bit over twenty-four hours later, they lock her up in Blackgate Penitentiary. The ridiculous rules of the Dent Act allow them to do so. It is almost like a vacation, dealing with the men there, in comparison to Bane. They are far easier to deal with. The fact they put her with them would make her swell with pride, should the situation not be as serious as it is. The prison lies within the Gotham limits. It is not safely on the other side of the river. She knows it is only a matter of time before Bane comes for her.

Three days pass. Over those days, the city outside the walls changes drastically. On the second day, she hears the explosions all over the city. She sees them on the screen at the end of the hall. When Bane walks out onto the football field, she looks away and covers her ears. She only finds out about the bomb when the men yell about it, hours later.

On the morning of the third day, Bane and his dogs stand in front of the prison. Bane gives a speech about the people taking back Gotham, about the injustices represented by Blackgate. Then they storm the prison. Every man gets a gun. She waits for one of them to open her cell, but no one comes.

"Bane wants you kept in there," Barsad's voice comes from the throng of people. He sidesteps a couple criminals and looks at her.

_Fuck. _Selina wants to reply with something snarky, something witty and degrading, but nothing breaks through the overwhelming fear building in the pit of her stomach. So she just nods at him and waits.

Bane keeps her there for ages. The prison is long empty—the guards all run off or dead, the criminals waging war on the city and its people.

She must have dozed, because suddenly Bane is materialized in her cell, as if from the darkness.

"Greetings, Ms. Kyle," he feigns ridiculously polite camaraderie, but Selina knows better. She can hear the edge to his voice. He is pissed and he is looking forward to punishing her. So she doesn't respond. She lets him fume because she knows anything she says will only make it worse. She stares across the short distance, shivering a bit at the tension thriving between them.

"I heard you tried to leave the city."

"I tried to leave _you._"

_Damn_. Her resolve disappeared before she could stop herself. She is going to pay for that. Along with quite a few other things.

"Really? And what did you expect to do once you got out?" He closes in on her, hand rising slowly to skim her cheek. "We both know you can't function without me. Not anymore."

_What is that supposed to mean? _His eyes are cold and he is deadly serious.

"I functioned _just fine _before you _fucking _got involved!" She snarls. In the back of her mind, she realizes that she just agreed with him. What is _wrong _with her?

She slaps away his hand, but it snaps back into her jaw, sending her tumbling off the bench and onto the floor. Without missing a beat, he grabs the collar of her orange prison uniform and drags her upwards. Selina's back slams into the wall before she can register the movement. A small whimper escapes her lips, killing every bit of pride left in her.

"_Stop… TOUCHING ME!" _She screams. She feels nothing but hate-_hate_-_HATE. _She wants him gone—away from her—dead in a ditch.

Everything in her clenches as he slowly strips her of every article she wears. The orange uniform is ripped to shreds, along with the white t-shirt she layered beneath it, and the sports bra and panties lay on the other side of the room. Selina squeezes her eyes tightly together, readying herself for whatever he plans to do.

The force of his fist, or foot, or _cock _on her body never comes. Selina slowly cracks open her eyes to see him looking at her expectantly. His grip loosens and she slides down the wall. She thrashes wildly to get away. His movement of retaliation—a knee in her gut—leaves her awkwardly on her knees. His palm in her hair forces her into the floor, ass in the air. Finally, his hand releases her hair, the pressure of his hips on hers substantial, and presses his fingertips into the scabbed form of his name. She howls, because while the wounds do not hurt on their own, they are still sore and the stress applied by his fingers is excessive.

A thick finger leaves her lower back to trace down the space between cheeks. It skims over her rim and down to her vaginal lips.

Not surprisingly, she is completely dry. It makes no difference.

She hears the zipper and he's inside her, in one fluid movement. With each thrust her face grinds into the rough cement. The force breaks skin on her body everywhere, as well as inside her.

As always, she refuses to scream. She places her mind someplace else, allowing her eyes to go lax; the beast behind her cannot see.

It is the first time he has taken her so thoroughly by force (and, in addition, not given her chance to orgasm) in months. A small part of Selina—a part that she wishes to eradicate and burn so as to stop it from spreading any further—can't help but feel that she had it coming. She knew what would happen, she knew what his orders were, and she tried to escape anyways. She refused to learn from her mistakes, and now she is paying for it.

_You pushed him to do it. _The voice in her head whispers. _This is your fault. _

She hates herself, because she realizes that she had been slowly letting her guard down for the preceding weeks. She thought the two of them had reached a wordless agreement that Bane would not take her by force anymore. She believed it was so strong a contract that it did not matter what she did, he would find other ways of punishing her. Only days earlier, he wrote his name upon her skin rather than raping her.

When he finally moves away from her, she scrambles to her feet. She gets a total of two steps away before he grabs her ankle and pulls her back down to the floor. Her knees bang painfully then slide against the cement, pressing her entire body into it. She twists in his grasp, but then something closes around her right leg and he releases her. Rolling onto her back, she moves to sit up, and her mouth falls open.

Dangling tightly from her right angle is a black metal cuff, with a blinking light on a small machine attached to it.

"I-is that…?" She whispers. She's too horrified to speak.

"A tracker. Previously used by Gotham's finest on those subject to house arrest."

"No… no, take it off," she begs.

"I chose not to resort to this method before because it only works within a ten mile radius," he withdraws a monitor from the pocket of his jacket. When he holds it up to show her, she sees a stationary blue dot in the middle of a map of Gotham City, approximately above the location of Blackgate. "So you could easily leave Gotham and it would be worthless. But you don't exactly have anywhere to go now, do you?"

_Another leash._

Then he laughs. "Is it not ironic, Ms. Kyle?" He strokes the black band affectionately. "A tracker is how you found me, correct? Now it is how I will find you."

He moves his masked mouth to his ear. "If you take it off, I will be alerted immediately; it monitors your pulse. Don't try it. You will not like the consequences."

He doesn't ask if she understands, robbing her of the opportunity to make a sarcastic comment. It doesn't matter; she doubts she has it in her to come up with something that is better than ridiculous.

He picks up his jacket off the floor and throws it at her, rather than to her. She pulls it around her, not bothering to put her arms through the sleeves because they would be far too long. Of course, she's swimming in the fabric regardless. She steps out of the cell and walks down the hallway ahead of him. When they move through the hole in the black-colored gate, she hangs back to move behind him.

"Where are we going?" She asks, finally speaking since the moment he put the tracker on her. It hangs off the ankle, chafing the skin, a weight on her body and soul. But it is not as terrible as his name on her back. While she waits for his answer she shifts her weight from one bare foot to the other, allowing the ruined concrete to press into her heels.

"We moved base to a high-rise apartment complex on the outskirts of the business district." He doesn't look at her as he walks down the street. Due to his quick strides, and their difference in height, she has to break into a slow run to keep up with him. After sitting around for the previous three days, mixed with Bane's recent assault, her legs become tired very quickly. He eventually becomes annoyed at this and turns around to gaze at her. She glares back as she catches up and stands beside him.

Without missing a beat, he bends down and hooks his arm around the back of her knees, which are only barely visible beneath the coat. When he straightens up, her stomach presses against his shoulder. She cries out, demanding to be placed back on solid ground, but he refuses.

"Believe it or not, Ms. Kyle, I have promises to keep," he pauses. "And miles to go before I sleep."

"'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening'…" Selina mutters, to herself more than him, but their position places her mouth very close to his head.

Leave it to Bane to start quoting Robert-_fucking_-Frost after he seals off her city from the outside world, creating a contained apocalypse. _This is ridiculous. _As if he could be any more insane. He chuckles as he continues down the road, beneath the setting sun.

_And miles to go before I sleep._

* * *

**A/N **The events of this chapters are what this entire story spiraled out from. The look on Selina's face, in the movie, when she says "That you should be as afraid of him as I am" is so dark and depressing-as if she has completely lost hope. I was incredibly inspired by it. Thank Anne Hathaway's amazing acting abilities for this story. While your at it, you might as well thank Tom Hardy for his Bane. Also, thank Nolan. I'm gonna shut up now.

The next couple chapters will be short, I think. Many apologies in advance. (_Sorry for quoting poetry. I couldn't help myself...) _xxx


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N **Hey guys! I _finally _got the soundtrack for this story up on my tumblr: ( luvkurai . tumblr . com ) Click 'Writing Etc' to find it. There will definitely be additions to it in the future.

**Chapter 8**

When they arrive he drops her unceremoniously on the floor. Her head just barely misses the table as she falls and she shoots him an angry look to make that fact known. He lets himself fall onto the couch beside her, where he picks up the remote and turns on the news, muted.

"Did you kill him?" She asks before she can stop herself. She stares straight at him, but his face is turned away from her, towards the television. His dark pupils slide across the room to look at her out of the corner of his eyes. "Bruce."

She calls him Bruce. She has done so, in her mind, ever since Bane called him 'Mr. Wayne,' the night he destroyed him, but it is the very time she has said it out loud. There's a look in Bane's eyes that Selina can't place and she wishes it were possible to see his mouth. Perhaps it would make it easier to read his facial expression.

He doesn't look particularly delighted with the idea of answering her question.

"Please," she says quietly, the sound coming more from the slapping of her lips than the exhalation of air. He still makes no move to speak. She exhales quickly and turns away. _He won't tell me. _

Then, Bane says, "The Batman is no more."

Selina squeezes her eyes shut, warding back the nonexistent tears she worries will appear.

"Do you _care?_" She hears the laugh on the edge of his words, prepared to release itself at the arrival of her answer. _Not today. _She stands and walks across the room to the bathroom, where the door hangs wide open. She allows Bane's jacket to fall on the carpet outside the door. The inside is pristine and perfect, as if it has never been used. Selina imagines that Bane would choose an unused apartment, not something dirtied by many before him. The furniture is all obviously for show, it is low quality and not up to par with the cost of the apartment itself, which judging by its location and the number of rooms likely reaches into the millions. Selina's guess is confirmed by a single unused bar of soap in the bathroom, covered in saran wrap. There is not even any toilet paper. In all likelihood, she'll be responsible for finding toiletries in the new dystopian Gotham.

_What a drag. _

She sighs as she contemplates her naked body in the mirror. The old bruises had a chance to fade while she was in prison, but she can see new ones from an hour before bubbling to the surface of her skin. She doesn't really want to turn to see his name on her back, but it has been over three days since she looked in a mirror. The scars don't hurt anymore, so she almost thinks they are gone.

She can't stop herself; she turns. For the first time, she really _looks _at the 'body art.' The depth, the size, the penmanship. She successfully prevents herself from moving her fingers to skim the letters, and she turns back around to stare into the mirror again.

She snaps her bare hips against the counter and presses her palms into the stone around the sink. Her eyes shut.

For a little over an hour, she stands completely still, thinking about memories from her childhood, trying to remember when everything went so horribly wrong. She only moves when she hears a shuffling outside the door, warning her that it is about to open. When it does, moments later, she is in the shower, standing under bitter cold water. She hears Bane's footsteps outside the shower curtain, then they disappear.

After she is finished bathing, with the bar of soap from the counter, she finds a set of terribly mismatched clothes beside the sink along with a leather jacket she must have left in the sewers. There is no towel, so she turns slowly in a circle while she air dries, very aware that Bane is waiting for her outside.

She sits on the countertop and withdraws a spare cigarette and lighter from her jacket, not bothering to worry about the possibility of a smoke alarm. She doesn't smoke, not really (she doesn't want her lungs giving out before she turns forty), but since she met Bane her life has been a constant struggle with stress. So she chooses to indulge herself sometimes. Now is one of those times. She smokes half of it, taking long drags and thinking of Bruce, dead somewhere, probably in the river, knowing Bane. After washing the remains down the sink, she gets dressed and finally exits the bathroom, after nearly two full hours.

Bane is nowhere to be found. She exhales sharply, visibly relaxing. She will have, at the very least, a few more moments of solitude.

She watches the television Bane did not bother to switch off. She turns the volume on, so she can hear the reporter from New York, or Chicago discuss the current inner workings of Gotham. They don't have much information yet; it has only been a bit over twenty-four hours. The outside world somehow discovered that Bane had released the prisoners from Blackgate. Selina had not previously understood that Bane was speaking to reporters standing nearby as much as he was talking to those on the other side of the door.

But it appears thatpart of the story has been milked as much as possible, at the current time. Instead they rely solely on video footage Gotham citizens are able to text and email in, despite the quickly waning reception. When they lack good contributions, they show a continuous stream of smoke rising in the distant Gotham from various places in the city, shot from the other side of the river.

It feels very surreal. In Selina's mind, nothing has really changed. She still lives in Bane's back pocket, used and abused. She still is completely controlled by him. She supposes the only real difference is that now everyone is. She heard Bane's speech, of course. She knows what he _said, _but, like everything he _says_, Selina can't help but assume the words are twisted, somehow fabricated in order to give a different impression than what they actually are. Bane is smart, ridiculously smart, and he knows how to do this effectively. _One of his many dangerous skills. _

The television becomes repetitive and Selina eventually fades into sleep on the couch, still sitting upright. Her head lolls backward against the wall as she glides through shallow, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Her eyes open with a gasp. For a moment she doesn't know where she is. Disorientation leads to panic as the room, made visible by the flickering of TV commercials, comes into focus. Then she notices the force lifting her from the couch. Bane has returned.

She relaxes, though she really shouldn't. "I… I was fine on the couch…"

In her momentary ignorance, she is under the assumption that Bane plans to carry her to bed. This belief is quickly dismantled when he pins her against the countertop in the kitchen, her back flush against his chest. He quickly removes her clothes, down to her bra and underwear.

"Let me turn," she whispers as quietly as possible, because she only _barely _wants him to allow her to do so. But he does, keeping his arms on either side of her to prevent escape, not that she would bother.

_He still isn't sure I will submit? _For a mass-murdering terrorist (because, again, despite what he _says, _that's what he _is_), Bane doesn't seem very self-confident.

Allowing her palms to skim against his toned stomach, she pushes his black t-shirt off his shoulders and onto the floor. His left knee prods against the wood behind her, pushing her knees far apart.

A drop of warm liquid falls against her ear when she allows herself to press closer to him. For a moment she thinks it's only sweat; then she recognizes the smell.

"Are you _bleeding?_" He grunts and continues his ministrations. "Bane—_stop._ What happened?"

"Gunshot wound," he says sullenly, finally pulling away. The look in his eyes is one of annoyance. Selina breaks eye contact and traces her finger along what she can now identify as a deep circle, where the bullet entered.

"It doesn't—?" She means to ask if it hurts, but she stops when she realizes that she does not particularly care. Her back presses tightly against the bar when she leans away from him. Inwardly, she sighs in contempt. "Do you have a first aid kit?"

He gives her a curt look. "You plan to mend my wounds?"

"I grew up in the Narrows. You think I've never seen someone get shot before?" She is very aware that his question is of a different nature, but she refuses to address it.

Still, minutes later, after Bane retrieves the white box and she is carefully covering the wound in medicine (the bullet seems to have already been withdrawn, making her job far easier), she can't help but wonder exactly what she's doing. This man killed Bruce. Selina knows there is no possibility Bane would have awarded the vigilante with a quick death as he does with his followers. The murder was likely painful—knowing Bane, both emotionally and physically. He probably toyed with Bruce's mind for hours and hours.

She is unable to repress a shiver from going down her back. There is no reason for her to be _helping _Bane. Finally, she finishes with the medicine and starts with the bandages. From what she can see, the bullet was shallow. With heavy bandaging it will heal in a few weeks, though a scar will undoubtedly remain. That is not so large an issue; Bane has many scars and the new one will blend in easily.

The moment Selina tosses the bandages into the box and silently declares herself done, Bane's hands move to her waist again.

Behind her, images of carnage scroll across the screen, as criminals and Selina's peers take back the city in bloody revolution.

* * *

**A/N **OK GUYS. Today I am leaving for europe. I don't know if I'll have internet in the hotels I'm going between for the next week, so if worse comes to worse, the next chapter might not be up until next Saturday when I go to university. I really hope this is not the case. If I can, I'll try to go to an internet cafe or something. I'll stil have my laptop though, so at least I can keep writing, right? That means there should still be regular updates for the first week or so of university. Thanks for all the lovely reviews. Best readers ever. xxx


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N **Short chapter again.

**Chapter 9**

Before Selina finished her high school education—which she forced herself to do, despite the fact that the majority of her friends did not—her earth sciences class spent about a month memorizing different types of weather for an exam that never actually came. The first major attack on Gotham, involving a gas that induced death-preluding fear, caused the schools to shut down for a few weeks while the damage and danger was assessed.

They spent an entire week learning about hurricanes, which Selina thought was ridiculous considering Gotham is by no means tropical. There are no storms causing that much damage recorded in the city—it is simply too far north. There are no currents. The bay may be large enough to _possibly _warrant something imitating a hurricane, but it never in recorded history.

When Selina and her classmates spent the majority of the class period complaining about learning such material, the teacher refused to cease the lesson.

"What if you move to New Orleans, or the Caribbean some day?" She asked. "You'll want to know about this stuff."

The comment was absurd; no one in Selina's class of teens native to the Gotham Narrows would ever amass enough wealth to move to so far away. Besides, why would anyone move to a place prone to such dangerous weather? It would be injudicious and stupid. Speaking of which, why did people not choose to move away from such places?

Then again, the same can be said of Gotham. Disaster after disaster strikes, crime oscillates between terrible and horrific, but the citizens do not flee in great numbers, and for every five that leave, fifty arrive anew, filling their vacant apartments to the brim.

Despite danger, and the rest of the nation's judgement-filled gaze upon it, Gotham is home. Its citizens may be aware of the risk, but they remain regardless, because to leave would be the equivalent of giving up their identity. Should they leave, or should they stay, it does not make a difference. Whatever happens, whatever choice they make, everything is lost.

* * *

As in the months preceding, things between them oscillate. Sometimes Selina feels bitter about her situation and those feelings shine through in her dealings with Bane. She mouths off or refuses to come when called upon. Those times result in minor punishments, never rape. After the last time, she does not even allow herself to consider taking off the tracker and escaping.

Months pass by. What was once alarming is now the epitome of normalcy. What was strange is familiar. The amount of people knowledgeable about Selina's ties to Bane expands only slowly, to Selina's continued shock. People have more to think about than pointless gossip, these days, even if the topic may be slightly related to their plight.

Selina is thankful for this; it means she can go on with her days as usual—or as usual as she could, would Bane leave her in peace.

It is the same cage as always, but now it feels more compact—tighter. Or perhaps it simply houses more people. Gotham does seem a bit cramped, despite the massacre of the rich that continues but is beginning to wane at the two month mark. The aura of the city is stifling.

Bane sends her around the city sometimes, on tiny missions. Pick up a double-agent infiltrating the remaining police, and show him the way. Spy on a double-agent infiltrating Bane's men. Steal the excess batteries from those still living in the business district. They are pointless. If Bane _really _needed any of the tasks done, he'd do them himself, or have Barsad oversee her, at least. It's purposeless, the way he tries to uphold the image that Selina is kept around for her _skills. _Selina knows the truth; she knows that in the modern Gotham City, where the rich are nonexistent, there is no use for a thief—petty or otherwise.

For whatever reason, Bane doesn't want the general public to know he's forcibly fucking her.

_Not forcibly._

What does it matter?

She hates him for it. She feels useless, like a fuck toy to warm his bed.

That's why, after Gotham has been under siege for ten weeks, Selina decides to start prowling the streets. Crime has sky-rocketed and the usual victims have never been more helpless. She isn't sure if Bane is aware of this, but she continues regardless.

* * *

"So this was your _master_ plan, huh?" She says as she walks in the door one day. Bane sits at the large wooden desk of the suite, reading another of his untitled books. She gestures broadly to the window. "_This _is what I've been helping you accomplish, for the last _three months _of my life?!"

He doesn't look up, but his mask hisses as air leaves it quickly. He speaks dryly, "Are you not pleased with my utopia, Ms. Kyle? I believed you were for equality."

"I am _all for_ equality! But _this _isn't equality, Bane! This is—"

"Did something happen?" He asks, finally looking up at her with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, Bane, something _fucking_—"

"I would deeply appreciate it if you would tone down the language." When she stops speaking to stare at him, fuming, he asks, "What happened?"

She takes a deep, rasping breath and sits down on the couch, leaning towards him. "I was walking here from my apartment and I heard screams coming from an alleyway. I turned down it to see what was going on… And do you know what I saw?"

He makes no inclination that he cares, but she continues.

"I saw a man attacking an innocent woman, Bane. He had a gun to her head. I went up to him and told him to leave her alone. He didn't turn around, and I dropped _your name. _He turned around, and I recognized the man. He was across the cell from me in Blackgate. He recognized me too, so he knew to not mess with me, but he ran off, probably to rape someone else."

Bane puts down his book but still doesn't speak.

"His name is Alexander Worovski. He was arrested, about seven years ago. It made the news. He's a _serial rapist _and you—you _armed him _and let him out to run rampant on the streets!"

She's pissed, really pissed. The entire time she was working for him, before everything went to hell, she lived with herself by thinking it was for the greater good. That despite everything, despite all the pain she was suffering through, Bane's 'great plan' was going to set the people she cared about free from the unfair class structure. She thought he would get rid of corruption.

She's pissed because she sees now how terribly wrong she was. Things are worse than before.

The week before, she and her roommate did some rounds of a neighborhood, exploring places they were previously unable to explore. They walked into an apartment. Small, but nicely furnished and in a prime location. Among the rubble from the many lootings that went through the area, Selina found a picture frame, with part of the glass broken away. The photograph inside was lightly scratched, but Selina could clearly see the photograph of a family of five: a mother, a father, two sons and a daughter. In the picture, they were all smiling.

Judging by the amount of destruction in the apartment, and the obvious wealth of the family, every person in the picture is undoubtedly dead now.

Bane stands suddenly and walks out of the apartment, slamming the door shut behind him.

* * *

Bane returns about four hours later. Barsad tails behind him, and they continue talking about something when they walk in. Selina doesn't look up from the book she reads at the table until he stands directly in front of her.

When she looks up, she gasps, hand flying to her mouth before she can control herself. Bane extends his hand and drops the head of Alexander Worovski on the table. It rolls to the side and Selina jumps back, her book falling to the floor. Her eyes flash up to Bane's.

"Happy?" He asks.

He turns on his heel, back to Barsad and the pair moves toward the door.

"Of course not," she calls out. Before the door closes again, she hears a small hissing sound, marking his short laughter.

It would be a lie to say she isn't shocked by Bane _cutting off a man's head_ and offering it to her as tribute. The action reeks of arrogance; yet another dominance play; a show of strength; bragging that he is able to accomplish something Selina cannot. Still, Selina can't help but feel as if it is him telling her that he accepts her desire to roam the city helping the needy.

That, or he just doesn't care. Selina can never be sure how far his interest in a subject stretches. It goes back to when he branded her—she believed he didn't give a shit about the methods she used to accomplish a job, but that turned out not to be the case. Either way, he does not scold her for throwing herself into the middle of an assault in a back alley. Her gut tells her that means continuing is tolerable.

Leaving the head on the table, she sprints out of the apartment and back onto the streets.

* * *

**A/N **My lovely readers, I wish I could hug every single one of you. You guys are amazing, which makes posting sucky chapters like this extremely tough. I considered lengthening this chapter with some of the stuff from next chapter, but I couldn't find a way to make it worth. REGARDLESS. There will be sex next chapter. I really don't like this chapter, but I needed filler material. I wish I could just skip large amounts of time and get to the interesting portions, but my writer's instinct simply will not allow me to do so. So instead you get shit like this. Whatever.

Tomorrow I go to university! I had a great time traveling, thank you for all the warm wishes for my trip. The amount of time between last chapter and this chapter was not due to the fact I had no internet as much as the fact I lacked time to actually sit down and write. Lots of love... xxx


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N **Thank you for the assurance that the last chapter didn't suck like I thought it did.

**Chapter 10**

More weeks pass. Winter arrives. The snow falls and never truly goes away, the city-funded trucks not moving across the city grid, clearing it away. As time passes, it melts, then freezes overnight, creating an ice that covers everything. While some citizens drove vehicles in the beginning, the roads are now too dangerous, especially since gas is another supply running low. Driving a motor vehicle around is the equivalent of flaunting wealth. Food supplies dwindle as well and Selina forces herself to push any lingering feelings of pity for the formerly rich Gothamites, holed up in some of the few untouched apartments, aside. There are more important things to worry about.

The majority of Selina's clothes and necessary possessions were moved to the apartment she and Bane share. She rarely returns to her own home, and her roommate continues to roam as she pleases, taking valuable items and discarding them on the street when she tires of them. She would never say so, but Selina suspects that her roommate, along with the rest of her friends, are inwardly bored of the new Gotham. There is little to no access to alcohol and drugs, and the black market becomes sparser by the day. The new world is not what they thought it would be. By the time three months have gone by, Selina has almost completely disassociated herself from her former companions.

One evening, she returns to her former home in Old Town. The area is still mostly untouched, as the people living there before are now those in control of the city. Why wage war on themselves? Despite the value of many of the things she left behind, it appears that even after months of siege, there has been no break in.

She is pleased to find that the electricity is actually on in that part of the city, when she arrives. She plugs in her computer and scrolls through some old documents. It is nice to feel the familiar ache of fluorescent light on her eyes. Eventually, she curls up on her bed—or what was her bed—and watches a movie she pirated off the internet at least three years earlier.

When Bane shows up, the sun is long set and the first movie is long finished, its sequel now playing. Selina regards him dryly.

"What are you doing here?" She asks. It isn't surprising that he found her, only that he came. She wasn't expected until past midnight. He shrugs and pulls the computer out of her lap, gazing momentarily at the chick-flick still playing there. When he hands it back, he rolls his eyes at her.

She laughs, a little gloomily. "Expecting something more interesting?"

He makes a noncommittal sound. By the time she hears him sit on the couch across the room, Selina is already engrossed in the movie again. At one point, she looks up at him and sees that he is reading one of her books. When the movie finishes, she raises her arms above her head and stretches. She feels exhausted and is considering spending the night in her apartment. It isn't too cold, since she turned the heat on, so she thinks it would be nice.

But then there's the issue of Bane still sitting across the room from her. If they were in their shared apartment, his actions would invite her to retire and fall into deep sleep the moment she touches the mattress. But this is her territory. Still, he takes his corner of the room over with all the confidence that he possesses in any other setting, so it seems to be more his space than hers.

It brings back that ache in her gut that appears momentarily—at times few and far between.

"Lay with me."

She cringes. The words left her lips before they even truly reached her mind and she is struck by how… biblical they sound. She desires to withdraw them, but it is too late now, Bane is looking up from his book and gazing at her with curiosity. She takes a shaky breath that she desperately hopes he can't hear.

"It's my bed. I'm inviting you." _Or is it everyone's bed? Is that how it works now?_

He raises a single eyebrow and snaps the book shut, leans forward. "Do I need inviting?"

Selina stands, ignoring his question entirely to make her way out and into the kitchen.

"No reason to be difficult…" she mutters under her breath. She carries her laptop with her and pushes it onto the countertop when she gets more wine. It is an expensive bottle, one that she hid on a high shelf to keep her roommate from drinking it. She doesn't hear Bane follow behind her, but the moment her hands grip the bottle, stronger hands take it from her and place it out of her reach.

"Why were you watching that movie?" Making conversation, Selina guesses. She shrugs.

"A bit of mind-numbing distraction never hurt anyone." She gestures to the far off bottle of wine.

He gives her a strange look, which his words don't match. "I was under the impression that you don't drink."

Selina thinks about all the parties she used to go to, before the liberation, and wonders if she was the only one of Bane's there, keeping an eye on her. Or maybe Bane is simply going off the fact he has never seen her drink.

In truth, Selina doesn't drink, just like she doesn't smoke or partake in any sort of recreational drugs. Though alcohol certainly provided quite a bit of fun in high school, she hasn't been officially intoxicated in at least five years, probably longer.

Besides, she really doesn't need to be drunk around Bane. He's enough of a handful as he comes.

"I don't. Especially when I'm expecting difficult company." Bane is provided with a pointed look. "But I wasn't expecting."

"Difficult."

"_Difficult_," she confirms. "What _are _you doing here? Old Town isn't exactly part of your rounds."

"You don't come here often." That doesn't answer Selina's question but she chooses to drop it.

"I was bored."

"I could give you more tasks…" The comment is more like a threat than a legitimate offer.

"You and I both know all of your 'tasks' are pointless." She takes a step away from him and her heel hits the wall, catching her by surprise. Her apartment is miniscule in comparison to the one she and Bane share and she is out of touch with the small space. Bane instantly jumps on the opportunity, all attempt for a legitimate conversation abandoned. She falls against the wall, head propped up to face him.

"I hope it is not too late to take you up on your offer…?" He asks, playful. _Weird. _

Selina smirks. "You had your chance."

Without missing a beat he picks her up and carries her back into the bed room. She doesn't cry out; she expected as much.

"The invitation has been withdrawn," she murmurs while he pulls his shirt off. He actually laughs at that one. Then he moves his fingers down to the folds of skin between her legs and begins to amuse himself by pulling and pinching, making Selina squirm all the while.

When she finally uses all the strength left in her to knee him in the thigh, nearly missing his groin, he snaps back to the upper half of her body. Her breasts are palmed, her sides chafed by roughened fingers and her cheeks reddened by exertion.

Her bed is only a double, so it is smaller than the queen size they are used to. Bane doesn't seem to notice (or care) but Selina feels momentarily disoriented and uncomfortable when he flips her onto her stomach, the angle making her head nearly roll off the mattress. Luckily, tonight the position is only for an instant, as Bane removes her remaining clothing entirely. Once she's back on her back, he pushes inside her, easily sliding into the space due to his earlier ministrations. He grunts and Selina curses soundlessly.

It takes Selina only seconds to accommodate Bane's size these days, so moments after the initial penetration they have worked up a tempo that is not too slow for Bane, but not too fast for Selina.

An idea pops into her mind and refuses to leave, so she pushes her hips to the side with as much force as she can muster. "_Roll."_

He gives an uncontrolled, breathless laugh and allows it. Once their positions are reversed Selina finds herself frozen in awe for a moment at the control gifted to her.

She feels that same emotion, the same one that has persisted for months, bubble to the surface. She destroys it through carnal action, presses herself firmly down until her hips are flush against his. There is another pause as Selina tests her ability to clench herself internally in this position.

Which is ridiculous, she realizes, considering how many times she has actually fucked in this position before. Almost the entirety of her relations with men were in this position; she required it.

With this memory at the forefront of her mind—as opposed to the thought of how noticeably large Bane is when sheathed entirely inside her like this—Selina forces her body into frantic action, concentrating entirely on her own release.

Still, regardless of her inattention, the position seems to excite Bane as well. He grips her hips lightly, allowing her to continue as she pleases, but providing balance on the mountain that is his body. She presses her palms into his shoulder and stares past the mask into his eyes, which burn with as much fire as ever, if not more. Her loose hair cascades down around her face, brushing his chest when she leans forward far enough. When a particularly heavy strand move across him, his right hand moves from her waist to tangle itself in her hair, pulling her downwards until her forehead presses in his shoulder.

And just like that, Selina loses control again—not that it is so bad.

Bane keeps her on top, but now forcibly moves her hips against his. Selina feels bruises forming beneath his fingers, but can't find it in her to care.

Once Bane takes charge, it takes less than a minute for Selina to finish. Bane takes a bit longer. He flips over, so Selina is back on bottom and buries himself inside her three—four times before spilling himself. Selina thinks for the umpteenth time that it is a good thing she remains on birth control, that she purchased a years supply shortly before the fall. What she will do when they run out, she doesn't know.

_Will Bane still be in charge, by then? _Bane pulls out of her and falls into the mattress beside her. _Of my life?_

"How long is this going to go on?" She asks. Her voice is quiet and her eyes are closed, so she can't even really be sure Bane is awake. The steady sound of his breathing through the mask gives nothing away. But his arm tightens around her waist.

"Until I decide its over."

"Will you kill me, when that day comes?" She feels exhausted, but she knows Bane destroys those that lose their value to him. If it were any other time of day, she wouldn't ask, and if she were any other girl, there would be fear in her voice. Instead, the words come sullenly.

There is a long pause before he speaks.

"I will."

Selina drifts into dreamless sleep.

* * *

When she wakes up the next morning, Bane is gone from the bed. When she walks into the sitting area, however, wrapped in a silk robe, she finds him sitting on the couch. Whereas the night before, there was the escape of exhaustion, now there is no such thing.

"What did you mean, last night?" The question falls between them like an ocean; it separates them by miles and any moment of understanding or even satisfaction forged the night before becomes buried beneath the waters of resentment.

"You asked me a question and I answered, Ms. Kyle." She glares at him and he glares back. She wonders if he'll beat her.

"Why?" It is only one word, but he understands.

"It will be a necessity."

"_God_, could you stop being so cryptic?" It's too early for this shit.

"There is no need for you to worry." He attempts to brush her off.

She feels her arms and legs quiver in anger and frustration. "You tell me that you will kill me one day, but you tell me not to worry?"

"It is the inevitable."

"No, Bane. Nothing is inevitable." _It's just you. _She pauses. "Is it something to do with the bomb? Is it going off?"

He doesn't reply, sufficiently serving as a confirmation. This time, she speaks quietly, "It doesn't have to."

His eyes flash. "It does. The world must be cleansed of the impurity that is Gotham."

The statement strikes her like a slap in the face. It is a blatant rebuttal of everything Bane has ever said, everything he has appeared to stand for. Above all else, it is a confirmation of Bane's detestation for the city Selina calls home, as well as everything and everyone in it, including herself.

Selina looks past Bane, out the window to the streets below. Her eyes rise, slightly, and she sees the cloudy sky casting a shadow over the city, even in the morning.

"Get out," she says quietly. There is a long pause during which Selina continues to tense.

Finally he stands and moves towards the door. "I will expect you back at the usual time this evening, Ms. Kyle."

* * *

**A/N **You people are lovely, as always. I am quite proud of this chapter. The parts past this chapter are my favorite, and I've been waiting for it to be written and published for a long, long time. I am very excited, and I'm glad I've amassed a sizable following of fantastic people that are really enjoying my story. xxx


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The door slams shut behind him, leaving Selina in complete and utter silence. Absently, it occurs to her that the electricity is now off—all the lights she left on the night before are out and the apartment is filled with a chill that leaves her shivering in her robe.

Her knees hit the floor before she realizes they have given out; the tears hit her hands before she realizes she is sobbing. She feels loneliness close in on her, suffocating. The realization hits her that Bane was her rock over the past few months, especially as the rest of her relationships deteriorated. She was reckless to have put so much of herself into something as damned as her association with Bane.

Pulling her right leg out from beneath her, she gazes desperately at the tracker. Over time she has grown to accept its presence. Really, so long as she does as Bane says, is where he wants her to be when he wants her to be there, it does not affect her so much.

She stands, but the sobs do not stop. She rushes into the bathroom, steps into the shower. Without bothering to remove her clothing, she yanks the nozzle.

Nothing happens. The water has been shut off as well. Selina collapses to the floor of the tub and wonders if she could bathe in her own tears. _Not likely. _But in the blood Bane plans to shed? _Undoubtedly. _

Everyone is going to die. Everyone Selina loves and loved, nearly everyone she has ever laid eyes on, in the flesh. Those left over after the massacre that 'rid' Gotham of the class system would be drown and perish in the simultaneous despair and destruction of the object that they _believe _insures their new society.

Ignorance is bliss, they say, and Selina does wish for ignorance.

She breaks a finger when she punches the wall. Then, she spends hours cradling it to her chest and rocking back and forth, attempting to console a part of her that inconsolable.

As she rocks, she whispers first bits of prayers that she never really learned, then nursery rhymes she wishes she could unlearn, and finally poetry—'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.'

"The woods are lovely…" She murmurs. "Dark and deep…"

By the time she pulls herself up from fetal position, it is midafternoon. She does not change clothes or fix her makeup that must look disastrous after the sexing and the sleeping and the crying. Instead, she walks straight out the door and onto the streets of Gotham, where she roams as if nothing is wrong, nothing has changed. She tells no one that there is no hope, that the bomb will go off regardless of what anyone within or outside Gotham does.

She wishes she still had hope.

When she arrives at Bane's apartment—it is _his _apartment again, not theirs—he does not ask what happened to her finger.

* * *

Two months later, Selina continues to obsess over when the bomb will go off. It has become an integral part of her life. Each morning, she wakes up and wonders, _will this be the day?_ When she walks the many roads of Gotham City, she thinks about the people she's saving, about the fact that she _isn't _saving them, not really.

She and Bane stopped talking, except out of necessity, after he told Selina the bomb would detonate. He chooses when they fuck and Selina acts as she always has, enjoys it as much as she can, just wordlessly. The request for control during copulation does not come up again, nor is it offered. She has nothing to say to him and, she believes, he has nothing to say to her. If she asked when the bomb would go off, he would not respond, so she does not waste her breath. Luckily enough for her, he also stopped giving her pointless objectives. Her time during the day is now her own, while the night is Bane's, as it always was.

One day, she walks. The snow sticks on the ground, and the cold air bites at her nose. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches sight of a couple thugs about to beat a kid to crap. She bristles in anger. They should not be here. She grabs one of their arms before it can come down on the boy's head.

"You boys _know _you can't come into my neighborhood without asking politely…" She twists him away and grabs the apple as the two men run off. She turns to the kid. "Never steal anything from someone you can't outrun, kid."

She takes a bite for herself then throws the apple back. The kid scampers off, leaving Selina to wonder how many times kids like that steal for nourishment, then are assaulted or worse as punishment for it. It makes her sick. She considers doubling the time she spends out on the streets, but decides against it. Bane wouldn't be very happy with her being more exhausted during sex than she already is. It isn't like she would really make a difference anyways.

"Pretty generous, for a thief."

_No. _She turns and Bruce Wayne steps out of the shadows. _Bane lied._ Bruce Wayne lives. She wants to run to him.

"I thought they killed you," she calls.

"Not yet." She feels a hysterical, girly giggle bubbling to her lips but she quashes it. Now is neither the time nor the place, especially considering what happened when they last saw each other.

"If you're looking for an apology…"

"It wouldn't suit you. I need your help." He's coming to _her _for help?

"…And why would I help you?" Old habits die hard.

"For this." He pulls out a small USB drive. For a moment, Selina doesn't even recognize it. It is the first one Selina has seen in months—a symbol of technology and a different world. "The Clean Slate."

"You'd trust me with that? After what I did to you?" She sounds incredulous, rightfully so. Out of all the people in this city, why would he trust her enough to ask for her assistance?

"I'll admit I was a little let down," he says, but she can hear the laugh at the edge of his voice. _Same old Bruce. _No—not the same… something is different. "But I still think there's more to you. In fact, I think that for you, this isn't just a tool, it's an escape route. You want to disappear. Start fresh."

He holds it out to her. A laugh is born and dies instantly in the pit of her stomach. "I can't even get off this island."

"I can give you a way off—once you get me to Lucius Fox. I need you to find out where they're holding him, then take me in."

She hesitates for another second, then takes the USB drive. She knows she can't do anything with it right now, not yet, but there is something comforting about holding something so coveted in her pocket. It is her ultimate treasure, because it gives her the world.

"Why do you need Fox?" She asks. Not that it matters, she would do practically anything for this man.

"To save this city," he says simply.

"Who said it needs saving? Maybe I like it this way."

"_Maybe _you do. But tomorrow that bomb's going off." The comment throws her entire world off balance for a split second. She feels the tension built up over the past two months explode, melt into acceptance of what is to come.

Then, she realizes Bruce is offering her a way out. "Got your powerful friend on the case?" She doesn't ask how he knows about the bomb; she trusts this man unconditionally.

"I'm trying, but I need Fox. Just open the South Street tunnel and you can leave."

She stares at him for a second, deeply hurt that he doesn't even try to convince her to stay and help—with him. "Fine."

* * *

They walk down an alley approaching Main Street, side by side. Neither speaks but Selina doesn't feel awkward. The entire situation feels comfortable, strangely.

"What's the plan?" Bruce asks her.

"First, we get you caught and brought to the courthouse."

"That sounds a bit risky," he tells her, but he doesn't sound skeptical. Just curious.

"That's where Lucius Fox is being kept. I'll get both of you out."

"Got it. So what do I—" Selina shoves him out of the alley, right in front of a large group of Bane's men. The group is pushing around a helpless teenage boy, making him dance. Selina's feet ache to kick them in the jaws to leave the poor kid alone, but she knows what is about to happen will suffice. She notices Bruce's shoulders go rigid for a moment, in anger, but then he puts on a look of fear—fake of course. It takes only moments for the mercenaries to notice him. They surround him and throw him to the ground, pulling the black bag over his head. In the New Gotham City Order, the bags are meant to symbolize the stripping of the rich's identity in the same way the poor were stripped of theirs.

They pull Bruce away and Selina follows behind. Once he disappears into the courthouse, she ducks into a side street and changes into her cat suit, along with the mask. Showing up in jeans would be suspicious.

"Sorry to spoil things, boys," she drawls as she walks through the back door, directly beside where prisoners are kept to await trial. "But Bane wants these guys to himself."

Selina loops her hands into the collars of both Fox and Bruce. When she pulls him up, Bruce's hand touches that of a woman previously sitting beside them. _Miranda Tate. _Famous for her do-gooding and her beauty equally, Selina feels a bit of a sinking disappointment when she sees the link between she and Bruce. The woman looks up at Selina; there is something in Tate's eyes she cannot place.

"I won't forget about you, Miranda," Bruce whispers.

"I know."

Fox looks a bit freaked out when he sees Selina, but he seems to notice Bruce's ease with the situation. When they step into the hall, she immediately takes out the guards.

"I like your girlfriend, Mr. Wayne," Fox says, more to Selina than Bruce, as she releases the older man's cuffs.

Selina swells with pride. "He should be so lucky."

They wind down street after street, Fox leading the way while Selina and Bruce lag behind.

"How did you get back into the city?" She asks.

Bruce laughs. "It was a bit simple actually—the South Street tunnel. There's a car pile up on our side of it, but on the other side there's nothing, the army isn't even guarding it because they assume no one could get in and it is nearly impossible to get out. I only had to make a hole big enough to squeeze myself through."

It is so simple, but so easily overlooked. Selina feels a bit bitter that no one attempted to do so before, but, then, after Bane made an example of the agents that made it in from the other side, she's sure no one was willing to try.

"Lucius!" Bruce calls. Fox turns around. "If I can't, you need to save Miranda, alright?"

"Mr. Wayne. Surely you know there is no need to tell me that." Bruce turns back to Selina to tell her about what he did once he got into Gotham, but her mind is elsewhere.

"Miranda Tate," she says after a moment. Bruce's eyes widen fractionally. "She's a friend?"

"Yes." The way he says it, Selina infers that they are a bit more than friends. "From what I understand, she's been helping the rebellion in every way possible. Have you two met? It was her ball, that night when I popped in on you."

_HOW WOULD I HAVE MET HER, YOU—?! _Selina's mind begins spewing a long stream of angry curses and shouts at the all-around stupidity and obliviousness of Bruce Wayne. She want's to slap him across the face.

Instead, she says simply, "No."

Fox finally stops and opens a hatch in a wall. Bruce steps inside, holding out his hand for Selina to follow.

But she looks up at the setting sun; Bane is expecting her. He is the last man on earth she wants to see. Should the bomb go off, despite all attempt at another outcome, she wants to be with Bruce. But not going to Bane would possibly lead him coming to get her, throwing a wrench into the plan to save Gotham. There is no way around it.

"I have to go for a bit…" She tells them. Bruce looks at her and there is not even an ounce of distrust in his gaze. "Where can I meet you?"

Bruce tells her the location of a garage about a mile and a half from where Bane's apartment is. It should be easy enough to get to.

"At three in the morning. I'll be preoccupied until then." Selina nods in understanding, then turns on her heel.

* * *

**A/N **Hi everyone. I've gotten a some messages (as reviews, pms and messages on tumblr) giving support in light of some people that have been a bit judgmental of this story (specifically in regards to the presence of graphic rape). I didn't ask for any, that fact that people are even reading this says the world to me, but I wanted to say it here that your messages have made me **ridiculously happy**. So thank you. I ranted about this issue a while back on my tumblr, if you'd like to see my more passionate opinion, but I won't bore you with it here, because it is a bit long...

On a more positive note, I have added two new songs to the soundtrack, which can still be found at .com (just click _writing etc)_. This chapter was a bit dull, but it is setting up for the next one, which I think is sure to please. I'd like to remind everyone that this story focuses mostly on Selina's relationship with Bane, not Bruce, so if these parts seem a bit less detailed, I apologize. Until next time xxx


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

As she walks across the city to Bane's home, her heartbeat gradually increases. This is bad. This is really bad. Does she really think she can keep the fact Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham City a secret from Bane? He sees through her, he always has. Her knees begin to shake and she has to lean against a wall to steady herself for a moment.

_Relax_, she tells herself. Bane knows he is going to die tomorrow. Most likely, he won't even be there. Selina will wait in the apartment for an hour or so, then will leave and stroll in circles for a while. There is _no reason _for Bane to need to see her tonight.

_He won't be there._

He's there. She nods at him when she walks in. He's standing at the window, looking out at the city. Parts still light up occasionally as electricity returns—this is one of those nights. When he sees her, he takes two steps forward, to stand beside the couch.

"Come here," he says to her. His hand extends towards her, beckoning. Selina obeys slowly, trying to act as she always would.

When she arrives at his side, he moves quickly to lay her out on the couch. She expects to be turned over and fucked immediately, but instead his hand moves to her ankle, to the tracker.

He takes a key from his pocket and removes the band from her leg. Selina stares at Bane for a second.

"Why…?" She doesn't know what to say.

"I think you've proven your ability to do as your told at this point. The tracker is no longer necessary."

Selina's heart drops into her stomach. She feels awe creeping into her wild emotions; awe that he trusts her despite everything between them; awe that he knows she will return to him without the initiative of the tracker. Then it disappears.

Because, regardless of what he may do, he plans to kill her come eight o'clock, the next morning. And nothing can change that. She feels anger rising, her cheeks flushing, fingers twitching to inflict whatever amount of pain is possible—because he has _no right_. She wants to scream at him, to make him as angry as she is.

But she doesn't. As meekly as she can manage, she says, "Thank you."

He gives her a short nod and moves away slightly. "But you would do well to remember that it can easily be replaced, and finding you, should you attempt to run, will only be a slight annoyance on my part."

_But why bother? _Why attempt to make things right by her before her death? It seems like a waste of energy, and Bane isn't one for believing in redemption, nor forgiveness.

Despite herself, her hands touch his shoulders, lightly, and she is unable to keep the memory of the feeling of his bare, muscled and slightly marred skin from her mind. He bends down and places his knee on the couch beside her. When his hand moves to her face, she flinches, conditioned to expect pain. Instead, the tough pad of his thumb brushes against her bottom lip. Without ceasing, he begins to remove their clothing. She lets him. She needs him to believe that this is making her happy, that his trust brings her joy.

She removes her underwear on her own, that being the only article of clothing left beneath her cat suit.

"The bed…" Selina murmurs.

"Here," Bane replies. Selina's thumb presses into his Adam's apple, feeling his quickened pulse. She feels sick. She isn't sure she can go through with this.

Although, it isn't as if she really has a choice. Parting her legs easily with his own, Bane nestles himself between her thighs and Selina feels him there, hardened and ready. A hiss escapes her in anticipation. She then feels his head, pressing into her slowly, more slowly than ever before. Anxiousness builds up inside her, making her knees twitch upwards. He does not push all the way in until she can't hold back any more, lets out a whimper.

Then, he abandons all foreplay, picking up to their usual speed, which he enjoys, but is well aware that it has the power to quickly send Selina over the edge.

As he fucks her, with all his dangerous prowess, in the heat of her building climax, she realizes that this is impossible. There is nothing Bruce can do; nothing will stop the bomb from going off. Gotham _will _perish.

But she can escape. Bruce is giving her a way out, which she can take no matter what happens to Gotham, in the end. She sees the clock out of the corner of her eye. Just past midnight.

_Doomsday. _Who knew she would live to see it? But she won't be seeing it. She's getting out, leaving this place forever. There is no other way.

Her hand moves from Bane's shoulder to his brow, then traces slowly around the back to his neck, still covered by the band of the mask. His thrusting has slowed to a stop, leaving him sheathed inside her, but stationary. Selina places no pressure on his neck, but he presses his head down regardless, touches her shoulder. Selina's breath catches because it is too intimate, too close.

"Bane…" She whispers.

"Ms. Kyle…" He still has never once spoken her given name. "If you would be so kind… to raise your hips…" She does so and his arm dips below her ass for his hand to cup her clit. She lets out the front end of a scream that she cuts off by slamming her palm against her lips.

"Let me hear you…" His hand gently removes hers and pins it to the couch, preventing its return. The other is too busy with the effort of supporting her weight on Bane's neck to silence her unreasonable noises. The sounds of pleasure come out unwanted, uncontrolled and uncontained. She curses violently, making him laugh. His hand suddenly squeezes, birthing a loud groan shortly before she bites down on Bane's shoulder. He growls, jerks backwards, pounds into her, resuming after his temporary pause in movement. Their eyes meet momentarily before Selina pulls herself upwards and plants infinite kisses and bites on the crook between his neck and shoulder.

She wishes it was still acting, but it isn't anymore. She feels as frantic—to touch, to lick, to knead—as she acts. In the back of her mind, she realizes how fake she must have seemed earlier. Bane seems to have mistaken it for keeping him happy for the sake of staying separate from the tracker.

Apparently he is confident enough that she will not attempt to silence herself again, because he moves his hand from her wrist to her breast, capturing an already hardened nipple between his searing hot thumb and index finger. She screams again.

God damn it, _why _does she want his body so much?! She doesn't _want _to be fucking Bane, especially with the blissful and terrible knowledge that Bruce is alive, somewhere in the city. She wants to see him, she wants to be with him, to feel his lips, his hands.

"_Bruce…" _

For a moment, she does not realize what she has done. She does not understand why Bane is suddenly pulling back, anger lacing his expression. The gravity of her mistake only hits her when her bare back hits the floor, but by then it is too late.

"I have been fucking you for five months, and you still fantasize about a dead man?"

Not _still. _There is no still. Selina never once fantasized about Bruce while sexing with Bane. She never even considered it. Furthermore, Bruce is not, never was a dead man. Bane knows that and it sickens Selina that he would continue to lie to her, even before what he believes to be her death. He would have her die with the belief that he trusts her, but without the knowledge that Bruce lives? Anger builds inside her.

But she doesn't say that. She doesn't say anything. She stares up at Bane with the blankness of a newborn child, because it doesn't matter. In Bane's eyes, after today, they will both be dead. What Selina says makes no difference, because there is no future. Selina, on the other hand, will escape. Gotham will perish behind her, and she won't look back.

Still, she expects Bane to hit her, to bring his foot down and crush it into her bones. As a few silent seconds pass, her muscles strain and tense with the expectation of pain—it never comes. He walks to the door.

He turns back, momentarily, to gaze at her. The anger is gone. She sits up, sensing some sort of information, maybe a confession of his actions, or perhaps something with more gravity, even. For an awkward moment, they stare at one another.

"Goodbye."

The door slams shut behind him. For a moment Selina feels herself go lax in disappointment. Then the weight of Bane's single word hits her, making her eyesight go black.

It is the end. His farewell was what he knew would be his final word to Selina. It is the end. He would never hurt her again. It is the end. Selina would never again be subject to his whim.

It is the end.

She's dressing before she truly can see the room again, pulling her black suit back on as she has hundreds of times before. Once she's outside—with the speed at which she moves, it is a miracle that she doesn't catch Bane outside—she stops for a moment to take in the feeling of the cold air on her sex-warmed skin, on the moisture between her legs that she failed to clean. Then she runs. She runs for five straight blocks without stopping or slowing down. She's wearing heels, but she doesn't care. It doesn't matter, the pain doesn't matter.

When she finally collapses due to pain and exhaustion, it is in a back alley that she normally would never stray into—it is ridden with filth. She slides down the walls and lies flat on the ground. When she stops moving, the thoughts creep up on her again. She does push ups to ward them off. Then, she falls asleep.

Necessity wakes her. Bruce awaits her presence. It is 2:30 AM and she made the mistake of running in the opposite direction of where she needed to go. She withdraws a mirror from her utility belt and checks her face by the light of the street lamp. It is still flushed, but it is difficult to tell with the mask on, as well as the shield of darkness.

* * *

By the time she actually finds Bruce, she is twenty minutes late and is in a pissy mood. Seeing his face—his real, beautiful face in all its glory—only barely breaks her free of the anger surrounding her.

"You shouldn't have…" she purrs to Bruce when they approach the Bat-Pod. It is a beautiful vehicle.

The mid-town tunnel's blocked by debris," he tells her. "But the cannons have enough firepower to make a path for people. Wait until the fighting begins."

As she looks for the controls, she growls, "You're gonna wage a war to save your stuck-up girlfriend?"

"To start it—" Selina finds it and pushes the ignition. It roars to life.

"I got it." Bruce ignores her comment, but she certainly won't be repeating it.

"We have forty minutes to save this city," he tells her.

"No, I've got forty minutes to get clear of the blast radius, because you don't stand a chance against these guys."

"…With your help I might." There it is—he's asking her to stay, to die with him, for him, for Gotham. In the fight against Bane. Had he done so earlier that day, she would have agreed in a heartbeat, simply because of the love-induced stupidity created by his sudden return.

"I'll open that tunnel, then I'm gone." She forces herself not to care.

"There's more to you than that."

Her throat closes up and her eyes prickle with tears. When she speaks, she cannot keep her voice from cracking. "Sorry to keep disappointing you."

No one has ever said that to her before; no one has ever bothered to care. She feels sick. She looks up at him.

"Come with me. You don't owe these people… anything more… You've given them everything!"

She needs him. She can't be alone. She was alone for so long, in the dark.

He looks at her with level eyes, as if he understands what she is feeling. It strikes her, suddenly, that he probably does. He has always been alone.

"Not everything." He makes a move like he wants to touch her, but he holds back. "Not yet."

Without saying goodbye, he walks away from her.

* * *

The bike roars to life beneath her fingertips.

As she drives, tears sting at her eyelids, flying into the wind behind her. She speeds up. She knows there is no way for Bane to be tracking her, but it doesn't matter, it isn't Bane she's running from.

_Damn. Damn, damn, damn. _

Will it end? Why can't she have peace, just for a moment? And why are the men in her life trying to destroy her, from the inside out? Be it Bane, attempting to be right in Selina' eyes before they both perish, despite the fact that everything that's happened between them should say otherwise, or Bruce, being perfect and good and seeing good in her even when she is sure there is none to be seen.

She screeches to a stop and pushes herself off the bike; hits the nearest wall with the most powerful kick she can muster. She does so three more times before realizing that she's throwing a tantrum like a child.

"Get out, get out, _get out!" _She whispers. The pandemonium in her head is ripping her apart. There is too much confliction, too many sides to every thought. Nothing is simple. Nothing is easy.

She gets back on the bike and recommences her drive toward the tunnel entrance.

There are too many choices and she knows none of them are right. None of them will make her happy, _truly _happy. Every option has an infinite number of terrible things that will occur, should she choose it, and she's sure it isn't worth it.

She arrives at the pile-up of cars and spots the hole Bruce climbed in through. Once she opens it, she estimates it would take all day for the entire city to exit through it. There isn't nearly enough time for that.

_People are going to die. _That much is unchangeable, especially if the freed police force wage war on Bane's personal army of criminals.

_Bane. _By now, he must have seen the fiery bat blazing on the bridge. He knows Batman has returned and that likely shows Selina's outburst during sex in an entirely new light. Selina scoffs to herself, because she is the last thing Bane would worry about once Bruce's return is known.

From behind her, an explosion echoes with all the violence of her heart. She presses the trigger and watches as the doorway to freedom opens up before her.

But he didn't say goodbye, not like Bane did. Bruce left it—their relationship, the future, everything—open ended.

In doing so, he left her hope.

Bane had taken all of it away. He made her so sure that there was no possibility of a future, of salvation. But Bruce gave it all back.

She smiles to herself, because that's what Batman has always been about: hope. The aim was to be a symbol, to show that anyone can be a hero. Anyone can put themselves aside for the good of others.

_There's more to you than that._

She bends down farther and presses her forehead into her arm, laughing hysterically now. This is it. This is the defining moment of her life; this is the storm. She can feel it in her bones. This is the moment in which she must make a decision about who she is.

Is she selfish?

Is she a heroine?

And what is she willing to do?

Herself or Gotham? Life or death?

Bruce or Bane?

In light of that question, she flares up angrily. Every choice but the one falls away. She turns the bike around.

It takes her three minutes to get from the outskirts of town to the city center. Then it takes her eight minutes to figure out where Bruce and Bane are. She gets it out of a couple of Bane's men that still believe her to be working for him. Five and a half minutes later, she drives through the glass doors of City Hall.

Bane stands over Bruce, a gun to his head. _No. _In a flash she has made her decision; there is no time to think. She pulls the trigger and blasts Bane away, throwing his body into the far wall. For a moment, she looks at Bane's unmoving body with a feeling of dread. It is as if the floor has fallen from beneath her, and she stands over an abyss. She can feel everything closing in on her, trying to suck her down to where she sent Bane milliseconds earlier.

Bruce looks at her. His presence pulls her back. She feels suddenly free—using the word Bane used when he first met her—liberated. It's as if the world has opened up in front of her. But it hasn't, not yet.

"About that whole no guns thing…" She says to him. "Turns out I'm not as committed to it as you are."

He just shakes his head, a faint smile on his face. But there's no time.

"We have to force the convoy east to the entrance to the reactor. I need you on the ground, I'll be in the air. Go!"

This time Selina doesn't try to convince him to run. She just nods does as he says. In a split second she's back on the pod, waiting for Bruce to alert her via the audio connection running between all of his 'toys.'

They head north, where the convoy is slowly being pushed, oblivious to the fact Gordon has dismantled the trigger's ability to access the bomb. Still, it is only a matter of time before Miranda Tate, or Talia al-Ghul, as Bruce informs her is her real name, reaches the convoy and steers it in the opposite direction.

Bruce and Selina arrive at roughly the same time, planning slightly ahead of those running the convoy, ultimately able to push it one way, then the other, throwing them off guard. They shoot some missiles at Bruce, from a tumbler, which he evades by firing into buildings and a parking garage.

The convoy, now narrowed down to the sole truck housing the bomb, driven by Ms. Al-Ghul herself, falls to a lower level of the highway.

Commissioner Gordon himself comes running out, obviously stunned by the turn of events. Gordon looks at her with recognition, but there are more important things to worry about. "Give me a hand! We can get a cable on it!"

He moves around to the front of the truck, where none other than Miranda Tate sits. Selina does not understand at all, but when Tate speaks, she hears the subtle change in accent. It resonates the memory of Bane's own.

"Fox showed me how to override the reactor…" She says, looking blissful. "Including the emergency flood. There is no way this bomb will be stopped."

Selina's heart skips a beat. Bruce explained to her the make-up of the chamber earlier. If the chamber is flooded, there is no other way to stop it.

Gordon, Bruce and Selina crowd around the entrance, listening carefully to Miranda Tate's words.

"Prepare yourselves…" She says. Her voice grows weaker as she turns to look directly at Bruce. "My father's work is done."

With a gasp, her eyes close, body goes limp. She is dead, and soon they all will be. Selina's eyes close for a moment. She doesn't understand what is happening, not really. She doesn't know who Talia al-Ghul is, nor why she desires so greatly to destroy her city, nor how she seems to be connected to the two men in her life in ways Selina cannot comprehend. But what she does understand is that all hope is lost. Then, she feels Bruce moving away.

"What are you doing?" Gordon asks, coming alive again as the Batman grabs a cable from his vehicle. He attaches it to the bomb.

"I can get it over the bay," he says, already walking back towards the cockpit. Selina and Gordon follow after him.

"Set it to fly over the water, then eject?" She asks.

Bruce glances at her without stopping. "No autopilot."

_No. _She realizes what Bruce is going to do and follows after him. Her heartbeat speeds up.

"You… could have gone anywhere—done anything…" She's stumbling over her words. "But you came back here—" He doesn't know it, but she's in hysterics.

"So did you," he tells her, and she can hear the happiness in his voice. He is proud of her. Would time not be so sparse he would praise her for her decision—her willingness to change for the good of others.

She stares at him, his aura, his bravery, his selflessness overwhelming her. She loves him.

"…Then I guess we're both suckers," she says, and she kisses him, hard. It's the second time, but this one is 100% real, and she anxiously needs him to understand. He kisses back and she feels all their feelings, all their emotions passing between them.

One more time, she looks into his eyes, and he looks into hers. The next moment he is gone from her.

* * *

**A/N **DRAAAAMAAA. Sorry this took so long. It's a _massive_ chapter! Until next time, xxx.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N **Oh god. Sorry this took so long D:

**Warning: **Mild Suicidal Thoughts

**Chapter 13**

The idea of thinking yourself dead one moment, then the next being unsure how many years stretch out before you is a strange concept. Selina, as well as the rest of Gotham City, struggles with it for weeks after. The federal government comes in and power shifts from one occupation to another. The core of Gotham has been destroyed, creating a spiral effect, terminating everything in its path. Over the days Selina's friends complain, they miss the Gotham of Bane's rule, and Selina feels alone. They see only their own gains. When Selina tries to make them see reason, that the bomb was going to go off, they hold to the belief that it only would have done so due to the Batman's return. She realizes that the rich are not the entirety of the selfishness, the corruption of Gotham.

That is, of course, not the only reason Selina feels alone. Over the two weeks following near disaster Selina never turns on the television, never accesses the internet, never tunes in to any sort of radio station. If she did, she knows what she will see: the explosion, the sacrifice, the death of the Batman for the sake of Gotham's survival.

Bruce Wayne is gone. She gave him her heart, then he died. She cannot handle a reminder of it.

Sometimes, she thinks of Bane. When she does, it is because her mind betrays her. In moments of true weakness, she can't help but imagine that if she had not killed Bane, she would not be alone. She would have someone that cares.

She unconsciously romanticizes her entire relationship with the man that destroyed her life and her city. When she remembers his hands bruising her, she thinks that maybe he just wanted to keep her close. When she remembers the way he tracked her, she thinks that perhaps he could not bare the thought of being alone. When she remembers how he carved his name on her ass (the scars remain, as they always will), she thinks that maybe he just needed to show her that she wasn't alone.

She thinks about one of his early methods of punishment: being locked in darkness for days. She remembers the coldness, the way she slowly lost her sense of being until all that was left was the hope that _maybe _Bane would come and free her. She remembers the way she became invisible and worthless, the way Bane gave her back her value, even if it was a fallacy. Those emotions faded quickly, back then, once she saw the light again, but now they return. She remembers all of those feelings and wishes for an end.

She considers killing herself.

She wishes for Bane.

Gotham is poisoning her, she realizes. The shell of a city is no longer her home. It is a vessel for her self-hatred and her solitude.

She packs a bag, and, in the dead of night, decides to finally use Bruce's gift to her—a clean slate. As she disappears off the face of the planet, she closes her eyes and relaxes for the first time since she was a child, and stole the wallet from one of her mother's many boyfriends that passed through. She takes Bruce's bike and feels in her soul that she will never return to Gotham. There is nothing but memories there.

* * *

For days, she travels alone, riding across the country that she never before had the chance to see. She travels from east to west, weaving between north and south. She feels her freedom spread out all around her, like wings on the wind. She remains alone.

Three months after the end of Gotham's occupation, after the death of Bruce, of Bane, she sits at the bar of her hotel, in Los Angeles, sipping red wine. She has become used to being alone. The silence in her ears is comforting—it means she does not need to worry about bombs, gunfire, rape, or the other horrors associated with her more recent life.

It is her first time on the west coast. Earlier that day she took a taxi down to the beach. She bought a bathing suit and felt the sun warm her skin in a way that Gotham's beach facing the bay never could. Taking a large drink of her wine, she thinks about the sound of seagulls and the waves.

"You are not easy to track down."

She is drunker than she thought. She is hallucinating. She must be, because the man that voice belongs to is dead. She shouldn't give in to it, shouldn't turn around. She shouldn't, because she knows it will hurt when there is someone else there.

She looks, despite herself, and she sees an angel. "_Bruce."_

He smiles and slides up beside her. His arm tucks itself around her waist, wordlessly pleading for her to lean against him. She obliges.

She doesn't understand. She feels faint.

"You… you…" _Died. _She can't say the word aloud. She has rejected the concept too many times.

"I didn't," he murmurs back to her.

She throws her arms around his neck. She's so overwhelmed by emotion that tears spring to her eyes—no doubt aided by the presence of alcohol. Her forehead presses against his shirt, staining it with tears.

He makes a few soothing noises and gathers her into his arms. "Let's go upstairs and talk…"

She nods and stands up. He loops his arm into hers and they walk to the elevator, side by side. With each step through the hotel lobby, Selina becomes a bit more angry, until she's silently fuming. Once the elevator arrives, she steps inside and presses the floor number. Bruce steps in behind her and stands half a step away from her while they wait for the doors to close.

The second they have shut, Selina turns on her heel and punches Bruce Wayne square in the jaw. He jumps back against the wall, holding his face in what appears to be only mild pain. He looks confused for only a moment. Then, understanding sweeps across his face.

"How could you… do _that_… to me?" Selina demands. She feels her hair go loose around her face, making her appear a bit outlandish, no doubt. "You let me think you were _dead_ for _THREE MONTHS!_"

What about all the pain she experienced? All the loneliness? All the thousands of times a day that she questioned the choices she made, whether or not any of it was _really _worth it? It was all for nothing; all for Bruce-fucking-Wayne's selfish-billionaire whim. How _dare _he? She opened her heart to him and he abandoned her, only to stride back into her life after three months of near-suicidal torment.

He takes a long step towards her and places his hand and her collarbone. She slaps his hand away. He thinks he can just come into her life—especially when he was never there before, not really?

"I'm sorry, Selina," he whispers. "But there was no other way. I had to leave Gotham."

"You couldn't have _told me _before_?_"

He gives her a lopsided smile. "There was no time. You know that."

Yes, she _does _know that. She was _fucking _there. But that isn't the point. "You couldn't have _called me _or something?"

He shakes his head. "There was no way for me to do so. The government was tracking everyone going into the city, as well as any messages and broadcasts. After I left, I just didn't have the resources to do so."

She moves her head back and forth, as if trying to rid her mind of the words he's saying.

"Selina. I did try. But there was nothing I could do but wait…"

"Wait for what?" She demands.

"For you to leave Gotham."

Her mouth opens but nothing comes out. For a moment, she simply silently gapes at him.

"I knew you would leave Gotham…" He says, voice rising slightly in volume so that he sounds more sure of himself.

"But…" What can she say? "What if I didn't leave Gotham?"

_What if I killed myself, instead? _

"No, you had to leave. It was your only option," he says vehemently. Then, as if seeing her shocked expression, his face softens. "You have dreams Selina. You have things that you want to do, to see. You are so much bigger than Gotham City."

Selina's eyes close as the self-worth that was stripped of her before any of this happened—before she even met Bane—stripped by the teachers and parents and classmates that told her she was stupid, or lazy or that she wouldn't accomplish anything worthwhile—return to her. Could she really have been so self-depreciating? Look at her, now. She's crossed the country, away from Gotham City, which she had a significant part in _saving. _

She feels Bruce's lips press against hers and she gives in to the kiss. How could she do anything but? She has never felt this way about another human being.

The elevator dings, breaking the budding tension between them for only as long as it takes to half-run to her hotel room. Once they are inside, Selina properly looks at his face again and feels her chest swell in pure, unadulterated joy. He kisses the corner of her mouth and she resists the urge to nibble back.  
"I missed you… so much…" She admits to him. She is happy she was able to survive without him, but she has no idea how she was able to do so. He presses his forehead against hers lightly, so that eye contact is comfortably met.

"I missed you more." A giggle bursts from her lips before she can stifle it. His response is resonant of a teenage romance.

Selina realizes that this is their chance to start over. Their lives, their futures, are only what they wish them to be, what they create for themselves.

Bruce unzips her sundress and lets it fall down her shoulders slowly. She feels his eyes roaming, savoring every new inch of skin provided to him. She feels worshipped, like some sort of goddess descended to earth. As fingers brush against her already flushed cheeks, Selina decides to do the same for him.

Deft fingers unbutton Bruce's shirt, teasing the skin beneath with light fingertips and bits of fingernails, to drive him crazy. Tiny red lines that fade almost instantly follow their movements down his broad chest. There is a small grunt in the back of his throat and Selina giggles again. He laughs as well, it is powerful and musically baritone, rumbling his body as well as Selina's. She kisses his shoulder before he manages to remove her bra; once he does she is unable to concentrate on anything but the sensations spinning outward from her nipples. She whispers his name, first softly, then more urgently.

They move a few more steps into the hotel room, to the bed. Selina falls against the mattress, with Bruce falling against her.

Their lips meet again, his tongue presses into her mouth. Their muscles weave in and out of one another for a few moments, prodding one another into deeper and deeper passion—passion Selina honestly believed she would never experience again. Since the end of the occupation, she has been completely celibate.

"Let me… Get protection…" She murmurs against his neck when she feels him ready against her thighs. Bruce nods and rolls off her slightly. She stands and grabs her purse, momentarily turning her back to him. Why she even still has a condom in her purse is beyond her. She must have forgotten to empty it completely. She did stop taking birth control, however, no longer seeing its purpose. Though, looking back, the hormone swings may have been on account of the drastic change in medication…

"Selina…" Bruce says from behind her. She turns. "Why is Bane's name scratched into your back?"

Her heart stops and she instantly tenses up. She stutters, "I… I don't—"

"I saw you attack him, darling. You don't need to prove anything to me." The words are reassuring, but that doesn't make it any easier to speak.

"He…" Selina tries to express what exactly it was that Bane did to her. She's sure it can't be explained in a single sentence.

"He hurt you?" Selina nods, but refuses to leave it at that. The glow from foreplay is mind-numbing, but it is quickly fading, and Selina recalls her thoughts from before leaving Gotham; her thoughts that Bane was not, perhaps, so evil.

She hates the fact that she ever thought that, but… How could she possibly explain her relationship with Bane? It may have started as him constantly using his strength to take advantage of her, her body, her skills, but by the end it was something entirely new.

She decides to be completely honest. For twenty minutes she outlines the major events between she and Bane. She tells him how she went to him out of interest more than obligation, and that it was likely the biggest mistake she ever made. She tells him how Bane used her skills and her body as he wished without a care about what she wanted. She tells him about how she used to use her body for work, and how Bane took that away from her by placing his monstrous mark on her back when she tried to escape. She tells him how she honestly did not know the identity of the Batman, and how everything changed when she discovered his identity. She tells him how Bane put a tracker on her ankle.

She tells Bruce everything but the way thing slowly altered during the months of the occupation. She does not tell him how she became comfortable with Bane's methods of controlling her, his methods of keeping her close. She does not tell him betrayed she felt when she discovered the bomb would go off, regardless of what anyone did. She does not tell him the way her mind distorted her relationship with Bane, creating something terribly comparable to a normal relationship.

She knows Bruce will accept everything; one day she will tell him the rest. For now, he simply deserves to know what Selina struggled through for months and months—simultaneous with the struggle of Gotham and Bruce himself.

By the time she finishes, she is out of breath, unsure about who and what she is. "He ripped me apart. He destroyed everything that I thought I was." _Even the memory of him is tortuous. _

Bruce looks at her. "But look at you now. You recreated yourself, from what he left behind."

Selina isn't so sure; she knows it isn't that easy. But she also knows that she's on the way to doing so. She must be deep in contemplation, because when Bruce's fingers touch her temple she flinches out of whatever thought process has held her captive.

"You are going to be ok." His words legitimize the idea; she has no reason to doubt anything he says—not anymore. Selina smiles at him and presses her lips to the spot on his neck below his Adam's apple. He loops a wrist beneath one of her knees and pulls her close to let their bodies be flush against one another. In sync with one another, they roll so Selina's back presses against the mattress while Bruce props himself up on his elbows, surrounding her entirely. Her ankles knot themselves around his ass, creating enough friction to drive the former vigilante insane. Their eyes lock and Selina, in understanding of the unspoken request, nods. Bruce presses his hardened cock inside her, slowly, to keep from harming her.

There is no pain—no scream building at the back of her throat that she must, on occasion, struggle to force down. No feeling of rough cloth and zippers. There is no hard metal mask pressing against her cheekbones, rubbing the skin raw.

And she doesn't have to worry about whether or not Bruce is going to kill her today, or tomorrow, or ever.

Bruce rolls his hips in a particularly pleasant direction, wiping all thoughts of Bane from her mind. There is only Bruce, only ever was Bruce. She feels as if she was waiting for this moment for all of eternity.

"I love you."

"I love you."

It doesn't matter which of them said the words first. It was simultaneous, for all they care. Selina has never been happier. When their sex-tightened bodies finally unwind after an immeasurable amount of time, they moan out each others names and there is no one else on the planet earth, but the two of them.

Afterwards, they lay in each other's arms. They share body heat and tiny kisses.

"Come with me," he says, and she wonders what took him so long.

* * *

**A/N ****PLEASE READ. **I have been struggling with how and where to end this story for a really long time. Part of me has recently felt that this would be an apt place to end it. Unfortunately (or maybe not so unfortunately), I've had the outline and important passages for the events that come after this point finished since before I even started publishing. Despite what may or may not make a 'good fanfiction', I don't feel that I can NOT write it. The relationship between Bane and Selina is, in my mind, nowhere near complete. And like I have reminded you all before now, this story is about Selina and Bane—not Selina and Bruce.

In light of this, I've decided to continue writing this story as Hurricane, not as a sequel. The reasons to not have it as a separate sequel are a bit complicated and don't make a ton of sense. But basically, I can't bear to have the two parts separated. Despite that, I want to make it **extremely clear **that this is a completely acceptable place to **STOP READING** this story. Up until now, I've been writing alongside what was given to me by the wonderful people that made TDKR. I no longer have that option. I will be taking a lot of liberties, some of which I **know **everyone will not be happy with. I think I have somewhat successfully built in an ending in this chapter, allowing anyone that would like to stop now to do so.

If you choose to stop here, thank you for reading. You were all lovely.

If not, the next chapter should be up in a couple days. I love you all. xxx


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

A few months after meeting Bane, Selina was able to ascertain that he, as well as the majority of his dogs, originated from somewhere in the Middle East. Sometimes they spoke together in a fluid language that Selina could only assume was Arabic. Sometimes, when they did speak in English, it was to discuss stories of the religion of their home with those native to Gotham, or elsewhere. One spoke a story, to a group of five men, while Selina sat at the edge of the room awaiting Bane's arrival.

"The Exalted One gave to Ishmael, His chosen prophet, a Stone of white," the man said, reciting impressively eloquently from memory. "It dazzled like starlight and was completely pure. It was given to replace that which was destroyed by the flood of Noah, which ripped across the earth, flooding the land and purging the world of sin. In that storm, all, even God's gift, was lost.

"Ishmael was to build a new temple to house the stone. The temple, cubic in shape, became known as the _Kaaba_.

"But the despite its protective home, constructed by Ishmael, the stone was touched by man, and therefore touched by sin. Its white color faded away. It turned black."

* * *

Though Selina is not overly pleased, Bruce convinces her that they can't stay in bed when they have the whole world at their feet. Using a side account under a different name, Bruce purchases them two plane tickets to Europe. He has essentially no money left, but refuses to let Selina pay for anything out of the well-established funds she created prior to her leaving Gotham.

Selina can stand about two days of living in dirty hostels before she storms out and checks into a hotel, inviting Bruce to come along. He gives in. In a joint effort, they pull strings and form new identities for themselves—a newly-wed Canadian couple honeymooning in Europe before returning to their jobs in Toronto. Selina has never been to Toronto, but Bruce has, so fills her in on 'their' neighborhood and how they met in a café on the outskirts of the downtown area.

They start in London, where they visit art museums and spend hours and hours people-watching outside bars. Beside the Thames, Bruce gives her the pearl necklace she stole from him when they first met. That feels to Selina as if it was years ago, rather than months. In Amsterdam, their next destination, they spend a week having intoxicated sex in a miniscule studio apartment looking out on a side part of the canal. They move into France by train, stopping off in every other town to walk along rivers and vineyards in the early spring sun until they arrive in Paris.

For a month, they switch between hotels in the city. Bruce shows her the best places to eat, to walk, to kiss. He teaches her about wine and beauty and Selina honestly never believed she would so much enjoy being showed around by a billionaire—though he may be only a former one.

At the feet of Montmartre, Selina has her first panic attack. One moment she is walking down the road, gazing into a tourist shop, window, and the next she is on the ground, images of metal masks, blood and darkness filling her mind.

It is the day after Bruce told her why Talia and Bane wanted to destroy Gotham. Before a crowd can gather—they are dangerous because Bruce, the dead former-billionaire, is far too recognizable—Bruce calls a taxi and shuffles her inside.

"It's ok," he whispers in her ear. "He's dead. You killed him."

Once the attacks start, it is impossible to stop them. They are spurred by nothing and everything. They quickly escalate from never happening to happening every week, every day, sometimes multiple times a day. In a bit of frustration, Bruce demands what causes them. Selina cannot answer. She thinks about how ridiculous it was, that she believed she could live with no repercussions of Bane's assault on her life.

Bruce thinks she needs a change of location, so they move into Spain, then Portugal. It makes no difference. Guilt washes over Selina; no matter how much she wants to move on and just be with Bruce, Gotham keeps its grips in her soul. She tries harder. She tries sleeping more, sleeping less. She cuts out alcohol completely, then drinks herself into oblivion. She even tries shop lifting a box of expensive cutlery, for no real reason.

Once she calms down after an attack, she becomes very quiet, because she is unsure whether or not Bruce is irreversibly displeased with her. No matter how much he tells her he is not, that he understands what she is going through, that he was plagued by nightmares and day visions for most of his life, it doesn't make her feel better.

They move on to Italy, where Bruce insists on going to Florence to confirm to his ex-butler that he lives. Selina doesn't like the idea. She doesn't like having loose ends, people knowing who she is, where they are, but Bruce seems adamant, so she gives in. Besides, all that really matters is that Alfred sees them together. Then they can go on with their lives.

After the rendezvous, they go to Venice. It is a bit too touristy for them, so they move on to Rome after only two days. Again, they rent the tiniest, cheapest apartment that they can find.

After sharing a plate of antipasti, they go for a walk around the city, while the sun sets. Visions of stone walls and blades consume her. Pain breaks out across her bottom lip when she bites into it, trying to stifle her screams. She is successful, but Bruce only becomes more worried when he sees blood streaming down her chin. He yells into her ear, but she is deaf but for the sound of powerful footsteps approaching from all around.

Back home, once she is relaxed once more, Bruce sits down across from her on the couch.

"Are you afraid of him, still?" Bruce asks. Selina shakes her head. She isn't afraid, at least not in this moment. Bruce sighs and tells her about the Pit—the place in which he himself was imprisoned for the months of Gotham's occupation. Selina knew he was trapped somewhere, but was not aware that it was so far and so wretched a place.

"Bane was also imprisoned there, once," Bruce tells her. "That is where he met Talia."

_Talia? _What was a girl doing in a place like that? Bruce tells her how Ra's al-Ghul should have been the one imprisoned, but the woman took his place. Talia was born in the Pit.

"Bane saved her from the prisoners and was attacked for it. He wears the mask to cover the scars and to keep the pain at bay." Bruce pauses. "I was only able to survive in that fight as long as I did because I dismantled the mask. The pain made Bane unable to control his strength."

"How long was Bane in the Pit?" Selina asks quietly.

"I don't know. Years. Maybe decades. It's impossible to know, now. There are no records, no one that remembers."

Selina nods, feeling a bit faint. Her eyes close. She thinks about everything Bane did to her and everything she thought in the weeks after his death. Her throat closes up. It is the first time she has thought about those days since the night Bruce came back. She thought, then, that she would tell Bruce about it someday.

Is now the time? She wonders. She opens her eyes and mouth to speak just as Bruce's lips touch hers. His arm curves around the edge of her waist as he pulls her upwards towards him. She lets him do so. There is always tomorrow.

* * *

The next morning, they go out for a light breakfast together. Then Bruce goes for a run, while Selina goes to the market. As he kisses her, she can feel the content smile against her lips. In the aftermath of sex, the night before, he managed to pull twice the amount of affection from her lips and body as he can usually manage. When she arrives back to their apartment, she places her purchases on the counter, smiling to herself.

"You are not easy to track down."

It is the second time a man has said that to her, but the implications could not be more different. Something vibrates within her bones and she doesn't need to turn to know he's really there. This is not a hallucination; this is not a panic attack. This is real. For a moment, she just sets everything down and closes her eyes. Her head drops, falling limp for only a moment before she forces it upright as she turns.

Neither of them say anything for a moment. Selina's face holds no expression, nor does Bane's. There are a few new scars stretching down his neck and below his collar line—scars Selina is sure she caused—but other than that he is unchanged, whole, _alive. _

Selina turns on her heel and dashes for the door. Not surprisingly, Bane catches her and pulls her body backwards against his chest. She thrashes and screams into his hand.

"Calm yourself, Ms. Kyle." _How am I supposed to—_

He turns her to face him. Like a snake, his eyes slither up and down her face, searching for something. He slowly removes his hand from her mouth, making sure she has no plan to scream.

"I killed you," she whispers.

"You tried." She shakes her head in disbelief. She may not have checked his vitals, but the gun on the bike had quite the fire power. He should be dead.

"How did you find me?"

"With great difficulty." She is getting tired of his terse answers. Before she can stop herself, she rolls her eyes. He grabs her neck.

"I could kill you," he growls. The obviousness of the statement is striking.

She wants to say, _do it then_, but is unable to gain enough breath to do so. She wants to die. She can't keep playing this game with him, waiting for him to kill her—whether as an individual or as one of thousands. She knows the game is lost. It has been for months, since the moment he laid eyes on her. He doesn't need to prove anything to her.

But he does not kill her. He releases her neck suddenly, making her tumble to the floor. She cries out in pain when her knees hit the floor, but she really cries because living _hurts her._

"Get up," Bane commands of her. "We're leaving. As much as I would like to take you in your _lover's _home, we have business elsewhere."

_Lover. _

The way he says it, it sounds less authentic—a relationship _outside _that which is legitimate. His use of such a word makes it sound as if Selina was cheating on Bane with Bruce.

_Is that what this was? _She wonders, as she pulls herself up. _Was I cheating on Bane? _

In reality, she had been unaware it was cheating—she believed Bane to be dead. Furthermore, she had been unaware that her relationship with Bane went so far as to make any other relationships she may have _illegitimate._

As if hearing her train of thought, he grabs her hair and pulls her close.

His mask scrapes against her ear as he growls, "_You belong to me._"

When he pulls away, his eyes meet hers. She wonders, suddenly, how she ever believed that the mask overshadows the rest of his face—his eyes are positively aflame. They are like portals to another world, consumed by darkness and despair.

_Is that the world he creates, or the one he inhabits? _She visibly flinches at the thought, giving the appearance of her flinching from the Bane's gaze. It is the first time she has ever wondered about what horrors he has suffered, as opposed to the horrors he inflicts on her. Perhaps it is due to what Bruce told her—about Bane being trapped in a prison, mauled by his equals. He lived in the darkness for much of his life. Is it really so shocking that he became this way?

To think she would ever see the day that she humanizes Bane. It makes her sick, or at least she _wants _it to make her sick.

Bane's arm on her shoulder pulls her out of the reverie. She looks at him, but he is looking everywhere but her. He looks angry, as if sensing Selina's 'infidelity' in the space. He pushes her to the door and she sees Barsad out of the corner of her eye, waiting for them. She wonders why she didn't see him before. _I'm losing my touch. _

Then she thinks of Bruce, and she realizes he will return, see her partially unpacked shopping, and have no idea what happened. He will never know. Tears come to her eyes and she begins to struggle again. She can't leave him like this. _I love him. _

"_No!" _She cries out against Bane, as his arms loop around her. Perhaps if she just prolongs the time it takes to get outside, Bruce will return and save her. Maybe if she just gets away for a second Bane will be inexplicably unable to catch her.

When she attempts to wrench herself from his grip, his hand comes down on her. The horror in his eyes surrounds her.

* * *

**A/N **And here we go, getting into angst again. Quite a bit of it, coming up. Also, torture. Thanks for reading. xxx


	15. Chapter 15

Ok guys... I had a hard time writing this. Wow... So basically every single warning that's ever applied applies to this chapter.

**Warnings: ****Contains Graphic Rape, Abuse, Graphic Violence, Blood**

**Chapter 15**

A flame burns. At first it is small, barely breaking through the haze of sleep, of dreams. The sleep is the heaviest she has ever known, produced by sorrows and memories as well as the force on her temple that induced it. Selina does not wish to awake; the flame has other plans. Costumed with the energy of a forest fire, it spreads. There is no water to dissipate the pain it leaves in its wake. Silently, she begs for the flame to leave her be, but it is too late. She is dragged from below, up into the fire itself. The forest fire is no longer simply an attire.

* * *

She does not need to open her eyes to know where she is, what has occurred. There is no blissful, gracious moment in which she can tell herself it was naught but a dream, that she is, in reality, asleep beside the warmth that is Bruce Wayne. God is a fallacy.

She turns her attention to the details she can sense without raising her eyelids. Her hair weighs down on her, loose and fanned out across her back—she lays on her stomach. Her numb fingertips brush against smooth stone—she sleeps on concrete. She simultaneously feels cold and warmth, but not everywhere on her body—she was not stripped of clothing. This would generally be a blessing, but she feels alarm instead. Bane plans to save every waking instance of her torture for her conscious mind. There will be no reprieve.

Rather than opening her eyes to look around the room, she flexes her back, alerting whoever watches her—she can only guess their identity. There is no shift, but Selina knows better than to assume she is alone. She rolls onto her back, content to discover she is not bound.

Her eyes crack open against the blinding light and Bane looks back at her. She lifts her chin at him nonchalantly, making use of one of his favorite gestures. He raises an eyebrow, but this time she thinks better of rolling her eyes. Her fate is sealed.

"Ms. Kyle…" Bane says. "I thought you might never waken."

A scoffing sound escapes her lips.

"You pack a punch." Selina sits up, wincing as pain erupts across the inside of her scalp. "Maybe you shouldn't hit so hard next time."

"Yes, well, I was not particularly concerned with your well being at the time."

She laughs. "You never trusted me, so it isn't as if I betrayed you or anything…"

Bane's eyes crinkle in what Selina interprets as a smile, but it is quickly gone, having melted into cold disinterest. "Perhaps not… But your decisions have consequences. Due to your actions, the plan that was years in the making failed."

"Excuse me, for not wanting my friends and family to get killed by a nuclear bomb… And here I always thought you were the one behind the operation, but it was some—"

Bane drops to the floor and pins her against the cement by her neck. The movement is sudden. Selina has completely lost her ability to see his actions for what they are—quick and calculated, never random. Everything appears feral and inhuman now.

"You will be silent, Ms. Kyle," he growls. Her eyes widen as she tries to look anywhere but into his. "Unless you are screaming for mercy."

Her breathing picks up, her heartbeat quickens to a speed that should induce a heart attack. _Ok. Touchy subject. _She really should have been able to figure that one out herself. Bane leans away from her and Selina can hear his satisfaction at her quick submission in his voice when he says, "Though… I fear I will be unwilling to give it."

A shiver racks through her bones, straight into Bane's hand on her neck. She should shut up. This is the most angry Bane has ever been with her and she can all but see her life flashing before her eyes. _It would be apt revenge,_ Selina muses. After all, Selina and Bruce are at fault for the death of Talia al-Ghul. Shutting up is the last thing on her mind.

"Bruce will come for me," Selina whispers. She knows Bane is aware the Batman lives.

"Bruce Wayne believes you are dead, Ms. Kyle."

"He doesn't—"

"He does. Moments after I retrieved you, my men—'dogs', as you would so eloquently refer to them—fabricated a car accident using a body double. And considering there are no records of you, a DNA test would have no results."

Selina chokes, but she quickly calms herself. It is better this way, Selina supposes. This way Bruce and Bane will not meet again in combat—Selina is witness to how the last time turned out. Bruce Wayne will live his life out, as Selina always wished he could.

Bane's first blow is like lightning. It strikes and is gone, leaving a patch of heat where her neck and shoulder meet. That there will be a bruise, there is no question. The second lands on her stomach and causes an aftermath. She rolls onto her stomach and rises to her knees, attempting to breathe despite the pain that blossoms when she does so. She's already branded with Bane's name, so he leaves his mark with bruises and scars that Selina worries will never get the chance to fully heal.

_I will not beg. _He said it himself—there will be no mercy. Selina will not waste her precious breaths asking for it.

"Tell me, Ms. Kyle…" Bane's voice sounds positively demonic. It wraps around her, as if holding her hostage. "Did you feel empty, after you attempted to rid yourself of me?"

She doesn't reply. She refuses to remember the days that she contemplated suicide, that she wished for Bane's presence. His fingers grip into her hair from behind, angling her head painfully backwards so Bane can make lopsided eye contact with her. "Answer."

Selina doesn't speak until she feels Bane's free hand pushing up the hem of her skirt to show the scars on her ass. She growls, "_No_."

"Liar." His boot makes contact with one of her thighs, making her fall flat on the floor again. She wastes no more strength trying to lift herself up. Instead, she used the palms of her hands and the tips of her toes to move across the floor, away from Bane. Her flattened fingers claw at the cement.

Before she can react to his movement, the heel of his boot comes down on her fingers, crushing them into the floor. As a thick popping sound rattles through her body, she screams.

"Tell the truth." The intonation of his voice makes it sound as if he is trying to parent Selina, as if this punishment is that of someone who _cares about her_, rather than that of a man attempting to beat possession and submission back into her body as revenge.

"I _am!_" _I can take it. _

The boot pushes harder, torturing her already tortured limbs. It grinds into the floor, as if her pathetic hand is a bug, a cockroach, not part of a person.

"Come, Ms. Kyle. You make this far more difficult than necessary."

She will not tell him how she craved him.

She closes her eyes and blocks everything out, focuses on the feeling of the cement beneath her free hand, rather than the pain in the bad. Eventually the boot leaves her hand, only to crash into the side of her head. It bangs to the floor.

_A coma would be nice, right about now. _

A coma does not come, of course. Bane is too well practiced in keeping his victim painfully awake. Blood streams down her face, out of her nose and she opens her eyes to see the puddle forming on the floor. A finger dips into it, reminding Selina of her own. In vain, she tries to stop herself from looking at her hand. When she does, she sees a mass of skin and bones, dark purple and bright red all at once. There is even a little brown, which Selina can only assume is dirt from the bottom of his shoe. She lets out a shaky breath as Bane gracefully drops to his knees, to her level. His pointer finger and thumb, lightly drenched in the goopy red liquid, raise to her chin, dragging a thick line of it across her lips and up to rest beside her right eye. Selina's eyes stay trained on the floor, on the puddle, but when Bane remains still for too long to be normal, her eyes rise to his.

It is a moment of peace. Their eyes exchange looks of mistrust, of recollection. Selina wonders what he sees when he looks at her, because she is sure it isn't the same as what she sees in him.

He pulls her to her feet and Selina sees, out of the corner of her eye, that Bane is horrifically hard, impassioned by beating her to hell. She feels disgust, but then, an absurdity spurred by pain, she fears sex with this man. Fear isn't necessarily new, if she's completely honest, it existed from the moment she saw him in the sewers, but this is the first time she is really and truly afraid of rape.

_Rape. _Now, in this cement room, where she is miles, perhaps countries, away from the man she loves, she accepts the attack for what it is. Rape. Sexual assault. Selina is _a victim, _and she likely will be for the rest of her life, until Bane tires of her and ends her life. The same as it always was.

Bane's fingers rip through her clothes and all the while Selina fights him. She claws at his arms and screams as earsplittingly as she can. Bane's hand closes around her mouth to silence her and she bites his palm until she can faintly taste blood. His hand flies away. He looks at it for a moment, then at Selina. He backhands her with the other, making her stumble three steps backwards. She is captured again almost instantly.

Tears are already streaming down her face, tears that have nothing to do with pain, when Bane pushes her against the wall. Her clothes are long gone, so when her bare breasts press against it, her nipples become painfully hard. Bane's hands push and prod her beaten body, moving her legs apart and her hands behind her to use as leverage while her face is roughly pressed against the wall itself. He takes no notice of her moans of agony when he tightly squeezes her broken fingers.

Then, he forces his massive sex inside her. Over the weeks and months, she forgot what it felt like, to be forcibly taken by the monster—to feel split open from the inside. When was the last time he even forced her, like this? She can't remember.

With every thrust her body rocks backward only to be slammed back into the wall. She feels the skin on her cheeks chafe away, turning painfully red. If it continues for much longer the top layer of skin will be completely gone. And, with every thrust, Bane eliminates any traces of Bruce remaining on her body.

She sobs, sobs a word.

"_Please._"

She promised herself that she would not beg.

* * *

They arrive in a desert. She isn't quite sure where, she was unconscious for most of the journey because, despite Bane's warnings, she refused to sit idly by without even an attempt at escape. She remembers a long ride in a truck, then the gentle swaying of a boat. She is not positive about the boat—the swaying could have been her imagination.

But regardless of where they are, or how they got there, Selina awakens to the feeling of painfully dry air on her lips—air laced with dirt and sand and years of bloodshed. She feels nauseous. Without opening her eyes she says she is going to be sick. The movement around her stops and strong hands pull her onto the earth where she vomits until she gags dryly. When she slumps into the earth, the same hands pull her back up and the movement commences again.

A hand slaps her face, not to provide pain, but to pull her from the desperate place between consciousness and unconsciousness. At the first slap she shies from it, but at the second she forces the blur away, makes her eyes open into the blinding light.

Bane looks down at her blankly and she realizes her head lays in his lap. She possesses neither the energy nor the commitment to move from the position. A bottle presses itself against her lips. The water flows into her mouth and she drinks greedily, as if it is the first and last time water will touch her lips, but before she can truly indulge herself the canister leaves her mouth. Her head falls backwards and a whine escapes her lips.

"Take it slow," Bane says. His voice is comforting only against the penetrating sound of the truck vibrating on the ancient roads. "No need to make yourself sick again."

_I didn't make myself sick,_ she wants to say_. You made me sick. _But her throat still aches and she knows her tongue would not obey her even if she willed it to. So she nods and closes her eyes, turning to press into his toned stomach, which feels like an anchor in the strange world around her.

* * *

**A/N: **What did I say? Omg, guys! This story reached a hundred reviews! This has never happened to me before! I'm so, so happy to have such wonderful readers.

I now know what the final chapter count will be. In total, 22 chapters + an epilogue. This is subject to change, but it is unlikely. The epilogue will be pretty short.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The next time Selina wakes, she is on a mattress of woven fabrics, vibrantly colored with reds and oranges. She feels much better, but now hunger consumes her.

So as to not birth a searing headache, she moves slowly into a sitting position, then surveys her surroundings. The room is of a reddish stone, lit by a few candles around the tiny room. The air smells of incense and the most bitter of teas. She's cold, the thin robe wrapped around her not able to keep her body temperature up in the cool room. In comparison with the desert she remembers, she can only assume the room is underground, insulated from the heat of the outdoors. Somehow, air conditioning doesn't seem likely.

For the first time since he beat her, Selina surveys her body. With the traveling and general unconsciousness, she never got the chance, but she knows it has been at least a week since then. Indeed, many of the marks on her body are old, partially healed. A precise bruise beneath her ribs, just above her navel, is a dull green shade, in the distinct shape of Bane's elbow. She doesn't remember that one. Her legs are also scattered with marks and scratches, mostly healed. Her knees are bright red, parts of the skin gone, like extreme rug burns. Looking at her wrists, they look swollen, but as it is both of them, she can't be sure.

Selina remembers the way Bane ran his fingers along her body, after he finished with her. She laid on the cement floor, every inch of her body weak and aching. Her mind was on the verge of unconsciousness, but in the moments before sleep ensued she felt him. His fingers prodded and rubbed, taking time to touch the flesh of her ass, her breasts and her back. Even then, so soon after the beating, she was sore.

She remembers the conversation before the assault escalated to a point rendering her unable to speak. _Bruce Wayne believes you are dead. _

A faked car accident. For a moment, she thinks of the poor soul chosen to act as her body double, no doubt kidnapped and shoved into the road, chosen in advance for her similar appearance to Selina. She will never know the identity of the woman, will never know the degree to which her final hours were pained. She mustn't dwell on it.

_Bruce. _Alone. They promised to be together. She said she loved him; it was the truth. But look where 'love' landed her. Had she left Gotham alone, when she had the chance, she would now be free. Bruce, Bane and Talia dead in the explosion that never occurred. She would be alone, but free.

But then, she feels a warmth in her stomach, that spreads to her arms and legs, her cheeks, heating her chilled body. _It is better this way. _

Bruce is not dead and Gotham survives. As payment for her selflessness, her sacrifice, she received months of freedom and weeks with Bruce. For however long Bane chooses for her heart to continue beating, that time and those memories will be enough for her.

* * *

By the time Bane comes through the tiny alcove that Selina assumes hides a door, all but one of the candles is out. His fingers brush her scalp before she can force her body to move away, shock and exhaustion weighing her body down. Without speaking, he pulls the robe from her body. She fights out of habit and though she would like to remember it as being lengthy, her having put up a sizeable effort, it is anything but. Before the pads of her feet can so much as touch the floor, so she may move into attack position, he has her pinned on her stomach. Broad fingers and a thumb press into her temple, forcing her head to the side so Bane can see her profile.

He makes a loud sound. It drips regret and annoyance and the vibrations run through her body into her stomach and shoulders. "You used to fight harder. I broke you too quickly."

She doesn't reply, doesn't even scoff or sneer to make her displeasure known. She is too busy considering sobbing from exhaustion and anger for her mind to create a suitable comeback. It hurts her pride. Bane would normally notice, but he's too busy shoving his belt and pants out of the way to comment. Maybe another time. While he fucks her, she imagines Bruce half in spite for Bane and half in necessity for herself—when he pushes into her, she's completely dry. She considers actually moaning the man's name, but that would likely be pushing it too far. Besides, he seems to be going easy on her due to her battered state. Indeed, it is over quickly and throughout the entire ordeal he refrains from touching her apart from the force of his hips on hers.

"What happens now?" She asks afterwards. Bane left for a moment to retrieve food and a glass of water. The meal is only a tasteless porridge, likely lacking any real nutrition to aid in her recovery, but even as she shovels it into her mouth she feels some small amount of strength returning. It is enough to make conversation. "Will you try to destroy Gotham again?"

She really makes the effort to not sound bored, but it is difficult. Sarcasm is in her nature and no amount of beating will ever eliminate it completley. He doesn't respond, making Selina think that perhaps Bane may not know himself what comes next. His silence makes her feel uncomfortable, as he chooses to unflinchingly watch her eat, but she has other questions.

"Bruce—" Just the mere sound of his name makes him flare up angrily. Selina elects to ignore it. "He also told me about Talia."

Selina doesn't know why she brings her up. The last time she even so much as attempted to say her name he over reacted and pinned her to the floor. Though, he seems much calmer now. "Does she live as well?"

Selina watched Talia die, but if Bane survived, perhaps, by some strange twist of fate, she could as well. Bane sits in silence for a moment, staring blankly ahead of him. Selina expects a rebuttal or even silence—maybe an excuse to not answer the question. This is not the case.

"Talia lives everywhere."

Selina's eyes widen fractionally. In her stomach, there is a sensation of falling. The statement is laced with so much bitterness and passion that Selina truly understands that he loved her. She didn't think it possible, even after Bruce told her it was so.

_Bane and Talia. _Selina imagines Bane in his youth and Talia as a child, in that prison (likely not far from where they now sit). She imagines Bane's body, small from malnutrition and lack of sunlight. She imagines him, even in a state of weakness, giving every thing he has, everything he can offer and more to the child.

Selina realizes she has never known love like that. With Bruce, it was—is—_was_ (she has to make herself understand that she will never see Bruce again) about making up for lost time, making a new life for themselves, _moving on. _She does not know what it is like to love someone as he is, as she is. She does not know what it is like to love someone because he is all she has, in the darkness.

Selina sets the bowl of porridge down. It is not empty, but her hunger has disappeared and she fears another bite will induce sickness. She must exhibit self control.

She asks, "How did you survive?"

"You think I have not been attacked so abruptly and with so powerful a weapon before?"

Her eyes glare at the blatant disdain. "That doesn't answer my question. The blast should have killed you."

He pauses. "Are you aware of the reason I wear this mask?"

Selina nods, feeling a bit childlike. "You were attacked and the mask provides you with painkillers to keep you functional."

Bane nods his head slightly, noticeably tense. "Another drug is mixed with the painkillers. It makes my body resilient. The force of that blow was powerful, but you were too far away to kill me."

Selina forcefully relaxes her body. She needs to save her energy. _For what? _

"What is it…?" She asks. "The drug?"

"It is known as Venom and was developed by a doctor, many years ago. To make a super soldier. It was discontinued because it killed all the test subjects. But me."

Selina understands that he was meant to die from being exposed to the drug. _A man condemned to death, but rises strong from the ashes. _The idea fits him somehow.

"Is it very bad?" She asks. He looks at her questioningly. "Beneath the mask I mean. Bruce said you were attacked and—"

She has done it again. Mentioned Bruce Wayne. She sees him visibly anger—or perhaps not so visibly, but she is remembering how to read him after a bit of conversation. He is angry that she knows information about him—things that he did not tell her. But he has no idea what, or how much, she knows. It could be a lot, or it could be very little. In addition, he _really _is not happy that the former Batmanis the one that told her.

"What _exactly _did he tell you?" He snaps, and his tone of voice is just slightly out of character. Selina's relationship with Bruce is really getting to him. Selina just shrugs and looks down, considering eating again. She doesn't particularly want to give that knowledge up. She sort of likes the current situation. It almost feels like they are on equal levels (which is complete bull shit, they'll never even remotely be on equal levels). Everything Bane knows about her came from someone else—his intricate researching network—and everything Selina knows about him came from Bruce. They have told one another nothing about themselves, and neither really knows what the other is aware of. She feels the same clenching feeling, as if her insides are trying to rip themselves to shreds; the lack of trust is exhausting.

Selina looks up suddenly, meeting Bane's angry gaze. For a moment, something passes between them and Selina feels something that makes her throat close up. She feels a question coming, bubbling to the surface between them. Bane is going to ask her—going to demand why—why she—_Why did you try to kill me?_

The question never comes. Bane stands, immediately dissipating Selina's inward hysterics. She feels spared, as if she has narrowly missed a storm that would have completely destroyed her.

"Bane." She should stop. She shouldn't speak. She only evaded the question due to Bane's small act of mercy of not acknowledging the fact. But the question has to be answered, right?

"I love him," she whispers. "I know that doesn't change anything. I know that won't make you let me go, but I—"

Bane's eyes flash. He drops to his knees beside her and places a hand on her hip, the palm and fingertips fitting perfectly into the mold of bruises created days ago. The touch isn't particularly painful. Normally Selina would assume it is a threat, but she isn't sure what he wants her to do. The way Bane looks at her now, both imploring her to continue and commanding her to be silent, confuses Selina. Perhaps it is naught but a power play.

"I was supposed to leave. I _was_ leaving, I opened the South Street tunnel, but I turned around. I needed to protect him from you."

There is a long pause before Bane looks towards the ceiling. "Hm… Ms. Kyle, you were aware that Bruce Wayne had returned to Gotham when you came to me, that night, correct?"

Selina doesn't need to ask what night he's referring to—she moaned the man's name during sex with Bane—how could she forget?

"You lied to me," Selina hisses. She never got to be angry about this, never got to _yell _and _accuse_. She had to pretend that everything was normal. "You told me he was _dead."_

"I believe I told you the Batman was no more."

"No—don't you _dare_! You know what you were implying. It's not ok just because you twisted the words a little."

He laughs. "Ah—so we reach the root of this conversation. You could not be bitter solely because I took you from Mr. Wayne, or because I nearly succeeded in destroying your city. But because you believe I _lied to you. _This is why you hate me, correct?"

"I don't hate you." It comes out before she can stop herself. But it doesn't matter—the words are true. She hasn't felt true hatred for him in months, not since he came for her in the prison. He starts at that, his hand removing itself from her hip. The action is raw and uncalculated. Selina absorbs this information carefully: he is shocked that she does not hate him.

"That is unwise. The hate made you stronger."

She rolls her shoulders back and flexes a hand over the place on her hip where his laid before. The skin there is warm, almost flaming hot. She asks, "What do I have left to be strong for?"

* * *

**A/N **Sorry this took so long. I don't even have an excuse. I don't know how time passed. For whatever reason, I didn't want to write this chapter. I was working like three chapters in advance instead. But whatever. Seriously, I want to thank you guys for the reviews. I am really enjoying writing this so I'm really glad so many people are enjoying it :)

On a side note, some of your comments about stuff are hilarious. Seriously, opposite poles sometimes. Laughed so hard ;) xxx


	17. Chapter 17

**Sorry this took so long. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 17 **

Throughout her life, Selina chose to devote her efforts to fighting against corruption—in hopes that she may someday aid the world in coming to the utopia she envisions late at night. In that place, there are no social classes. People work for their own good as well as the good of others. Food is plentiful and the weak are not taken advantage of by the strong.

She knows about communism. Though her education may have been lacking in any particularly useful history classes (they always seemed to end around the Civil War), she read books about it in more recent years. She understands that communism fails for numerous reasons. While she isn't interested in politics, she can now say from experience that with the lack of a legitimate government, there is only violence. The facts do not stop her from dreaming of what could be if humanity as whole put forth the necessary effort. Selina would not call herself an idealist, but others would likely view her as such.

In the better days, she devoted nearly all of her time to the battle for any version of a perfect world, a perfect Gotham. Once Bane succeeded in forcing himself into her life, she had less time to devote to it, but she continued where she could. Though, in those days she believed that Bane was at least moving the world in the right direction. She was mistaken. During the Apocalyptic days of Gotham's siege, she put her effort into fixing the gapping cracks in the new city, staking out neighborhood after neighborhood and keeping Bane's dogs at bay as much as possible. Then Bruce 'died' and she 'killed' Bane and she was alone. She left Gotham. While the time following, the days alone with Bruce, was relaxing and admittedly therapeutic, they would, one day, have organically dissolved into she and Bruce fighting the battle together. He would be more than willing, she was sure, but Bane's return made that impossible.

Which brings her to the present. In her cell, where the sun never rises and the lamp in the corner never goes out, the battles remain in her head. She can only guess that it has been weeks since she came to this place. She should probably be showing symptoms of some sort of psychological disorder by this point, but she isn't. She almost wishes for insanity, just for a bit of variation. There is no such blessing, she has not had so much as a minor panic attack since Bane took her.

So what does she fight for? This is what she spends her days pondering. She would, of course, like to imagine that the fight against Bane, against him fucking her regularly, is legitimate. The cynical part of her, which has always been dominant, knows this to be false. If her existence lies in the symbolical battle, and the battle is gone, then what does she have to be strong for?

* * *

Each day, Selina wakes to Bane releasing the guard that stands outside the door from his duty. When Bane is not with her, he consistently has Selina's room under watch, despite the fact the door is always locked—she has checked. Selina could, if she put in the effort, get through the door. She used to be a cat burglar, it would not be a difficult feat for her, as Bane is likely aware. She could probably get past the guard as well, so long as she could disarm him quick enough.

But it isn't worth it. Where would she go? And how far would she get before Bane found her again and dragged her back underground? She has no idea where she is—she does not even know what country she is in. In addition, from what Bane has told her, he essentially owns the surrounding lands. A Caucasian woman appearing to be on the run would attract attention. She would be detained almost the moment a local laid eyes on her. So she stays, because there is no other option and she has no desire to suffer at Bane's hands again. The last time was more than enough.

Bane's footsteps sound outside the door. There is some talking, again in what Selina can only guess is Arabic—possibly a dialect of it. She sits up, curling her knees up to her chest to keep herself warm. A clicking sound and the door opens. Light floods into the room around the silhouette of Bane's figure, but only until Bane steps inside and closes the door behind him.

"You are well?" Conversation is another part of the routine.

"Fine." Selina would like for it to be an annoyance to converse with her captor, but there is no one else, nothing else to do. "It's getting cold."

"Yes," Bane agrees. "Even in the desert winter causes a chill."

He sets a bowl down before her. Today it is soup, still steaming, with chunk of bread to go with it. At least the soup will warm her up. Bane watches her eat and Selina takes part in minimal conversation with him.

Once she's finished eating, she tosses the empty bowl to the floor before him and leans back against the wall, waiting for him to grab her calf and drag her across the room, or pin her to the mattress by the back of her head. Instead, today he waits, watches her. She watches him back for a while, then stretches and yawns. She'd honestly like to go back to sleep.

"You are quite pure," he says suddenly. His voice is quiet, shadowed with an air of abrupt insight, but insight that has been pondered, in the making, for days.

She flinches, then laughs. "Excuse me? What part of me is pure? After everything I've done, I—" She breaks eye contact with him. "I am going straight to hell."

"You believe in hell…" he muses. When she looks ready to vehemently deny it, he adds, "Or perhaps simply in ultimate retribution for crimes committed. Regardless, such an assertion only leads me to further believe in your purity."

She doesn't understand, but he seems confident that he knows what he's talking about. Something inside her aches, wanting to know what he knows—what he thinks—what goes on in his head. _Stop it._

"But…" He says suddenly. "You misunderstand me. I mean only that you have thus far managed to evade change at my hands."

Selina remembers when she believed in something.

She looks at him strangely. She doesn't understand. Everything has changed since she met him—every ounce of her being altered and morphed. She even _looks _different, and she doesn't need a mirror to know it. Where she was once slender and tightly toned in all the right places, her body now grows flabby from disuse. Her perfectly layered and trimmed hair has given way to a mass of split ends and tangles. She knows, by the light of the lamp, that her sun tanned skin has faded into paleness. She must not forget the word carved into her back, as well. How can he not see that?

It makes her want to prove him wrong. So, without any real consideration, she leans forward and initiates sex. Her fingers skim freely across his collar bone before he can cage her hand in his palm. Selina uses her captured arm as leverage, pulls herself into the crook between his chin and the top of his chest. She feels his mask push into the crown of her head, and hears the loud movement of air as he breaths her in. Selina silently does the same.

Slightly delayed, the scent reaches Selina's brain and she feels earthquakes rock the floor beneath her. She feels lightning crash through her body—the old fire consumes her.

In a movement of carnality, Selina jumps into action. She loops her arms around his neck and touches the back of his mask, feeling the slight pressure of skin that pushes out around the strap. When her fingers lift off his head, they touch down again at the base of his neck, where his spine begins. She wants to touch his shoulder blades—wants to feel them pulse as he props himself up above her and thrusts into—

Bane cups his hand beneath her chin and carefully unwraps her from him. The room is suddenly too hot, too small. Unspent energy pulses through her and she feels lost, strangely lost. _What am I? _She keeps thinking that she knows, only to have the knowledge fall from beneath her feet, like a collapsing bridge. Maybe if she can just stop _thinking about it_, just for a little while, maybe she'll be able to figure it out.

"Bane."

His hand snaps lightly to her elbow, skims across her abdomen and presses against her breast. His hands are warm, but somehow they ease the built-up tension. Without a thought, she arches her back and groans. As his fingers trace tingling lines up to her shoulder, he follows until his head hovers just above her lips. If she wished it, she could press her lips to his eyelid, or the mask. He drops to his elbows, freeing his other hand so it may brush between her thighs. Another stilted groan escapes her lips.

"_Bane."_

She wonders for the first time if he ever had another name. 'Bane' is strange in all parts of the world, right? He must have adopted it. Who was he before? Their eyes meet. Bane looks at her with mostly satisfaction, but also confusion and uncertainty. Wondering why she's doing this.

She refuses to think about it. She places her quest for identity in the farthest corner of her mind, with the hope that it will remain there indefinitely.

Selina parts her legs and grinds up against Bane's crotch. She pauses there, feeling his already hardened cock twitch to life, pressing back against her. Selina whispers against Bane's cheek, saying she wants him, needs him to fuck her.

Bane pushes a finger across her clit and into her. A brush of cold air hits the sensitized skin at the apex of her thighs and Bane strokes and thrusts his fingers against her, thumb twirling in all the places he knows will drive her crazy and Selina feels crazy. She can't think and _god _she really doesn't want to, if this can go on forever. She arches again, getting her nipples to brush against Bane's bare chest. The angle makes his fingers graze a new spot and she shrieks in response. He continues as before, carefully avoiding all the more sensitized places, except for a light brush here and there.

"Come on, come _on!" _Selina whispers and _fuck _she's betraying Bruce and she _loves him_, but this is her life now, right? Bane is her life now. Besides, it's too late. There is nothing left to give to Bruce; Bane took everything.

At long last, Bane removes his fingers and pushes his cock fully into her with one thrust. He starts moving, slowly at first, just barely out of tempo so she can't tell when he'll thrust again—the way he likes it. But after a while he eases and picks up a faster tempo. Then, he leans down, presses the mask against her ear so when he breathes heavily she can hear the way the air hisses through the little holes in the mask, and the sound of the Venom releasing into his lungs each time he breathes.

"I missed this, Ms. Kyle," he whispers to her during a particularly long pause between thrusts. She doesn't respond except for a whimper, because what can she say to that? It is doubtful that he really expects her to respond anyways. "Your company is far more pleasurable when you choose to be agreeable."

She curses loudly. Why do his words send an embarrassingly noticeable shiver down her spine? Why does it make her strain her back, roll her hips against his?

"You are mine."

She lets out a dry sob, because she can't feel despair at his words. She can't, because they're true and maybe this way he will see how much he has changed her, molded her into something else entirely. His pace quickens again. The mask moves away from her ear so he may press their foreheads together, ensuring eye contact during their impending orgasms.

Not surprisingly, hers comes first. She tips over the edge and shakes throughout, white spots everywhere across her vision. When she passes over the peak, her vision returns and she sees Bane, still thrusting and still gazing down at her.

"You're mine too," she murmurs. Bane finds release; his mask moves closer to her mouth and they share oxygen for a time.

* * *

Afterwards, Bane turns her onto her side and presses up close against her. They aren't exactly spooning—he weaves his legs around hers in a way that is slightly painful—but the same gesture is practically there. Selina's orgasm was intense; she feels exhausted and depressed by it. _Whore. _

"Why do you think I'm…pure?" She asks, desperately needing to break the silence. The wonder at her identity did not stay away for long; it is almost as if she is wired to look for herself in everything. Though, she does feel more clearheaded now.

He pauses only momentarily. "You do not truly fear me. You never have. That is how I can tell."

She turns her head slightly and glances at him out of the corner of her eyes. "Maybe I'm just good at hiding it."

She has always feared him, she simply hides it behind a carefully controlled exterior, as she always has.

"You have not been afraid since the night we first met. Trepidation is only real when it shows itself—there is a difference between living in fear and letting that fear control the way you live."

The statement echoes with wisdom and experience, throwing her off guard. She wonders at it, feeling as if some layer of Bane has been peeled back.

"I don't try to run anymore, do I?" Selina doesn't know why she needs to convince Bane that he has successfully broken her.

"I don't exactly give you any chances."

"You could change that." Bane makes a sound of amusement and Selina feels herself relax.

* * *

**A/N **Again, terribly sorry that this took so long. I was busy with classes. Updates will be more regular now. Thank you for all the reviews. I'm so happy that you are all enjoying this so much. :) I do this for all of you as much as I do it for me.

Until next time, xxx


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

She was joking, in all honesty, but the next day Bane moves her into his own quarters. He even leaves the door unlocked, allowing her to wander the compound as she pleases. Again, she could make a run for it, but, _again_, what would be the point? So she doesn't allow herself to focus on finding a way out.

Instead, she finds a kitchen, where she is ecstatic to discover that she can choose what she eats, which she can eat whenever she wants. Too bad she's a terrible cook. There was a reason she decided getting a roommate in Gotham was for the best. She decides to make herself a meal of cooked vegetables and somehow creates a small fire. She dumps the nearby water jug on it, hissing curses under her breath, and quashes the fire before it grows to be too big. Letting out a sigh of relief she turns to see Bane watching her, an amused look on his face. She glares at him and grabs an apple instead.

When she strides out of the room, she wonders when her life became a ridiculous sitcom. The next time she tries cooking herself something, she is careful to make sure she doesn't cause a disaster. She comes out with tasteless porridge, but considering that all the cutlery, ancient appliances and even some of the ingredients are foreign to her, she is proud of herself.

Over the days following, she keeps herself busy. It is better than the alternative—waiting around for Bane to return—and the base is larger than she imagined.

* * *

In the hall one day, she sees Barsad.

"Selina Kyle," he says, nodding. He doesn't look surprised to see her in the least. She resists the urge to roll her eyes at him. "Just strolling about?"

His accent definitely isn't like the rest of Bane's men's. It reminds her of old English films for some reason, but the accent definitely isn't British.

"Yeah. Nice to stretch my legs for a change." _And to have clothes. _Bane supplied her with a pile of colorful robes and sashes, what she assumes must be the ethnic clothing for women. She'd prefer pants, but it's better than nothing. Barsad gives her an understanding nod. "Any idea where Bane is?"

"He is elsewhere."

"I…see…" Selina resists the urge to roll her eyes and turns away, to return to Bane's room, but Barsad stops her.

"Would you like to share a drink with me?"

_Alcohol. _She _really _is not a drinker, but the idea sounds so wonderful she cannot resist. She nods and follows Barsad to the kitchen, where he brought out a bottle of red wine.

_"_The others do not drink," Barsad explains. "It is only partly culture—it is mostly dedication to the ideals of the League, but I come from a very different place than them."

Barsad pours two glasses of wine, gives one to Selina and raises his own glass to clink against hers. "And where I come from, there is nothing wrong with having a drink every now and then."

Though ultimately, the _drink_ in the singular becomes _drinks_ in the very plural—they go through multiple bottles. They probably went through it too quickly, but Barsad is surprisingly great for conversation. Furthermore, he knows things about Bane that Selina would otherwise never know.

"Is the Pit near here?" she asks, hoping she won't have to elaborate. Barsad nods in understanding.

"It lies about twenty miles to the south of here. Bane prefers to keep his prison nearby. Though, it poses a bit of a problem now."

When Selina expresses interest, he says: "When Mr. Wayne climbed from the Pit, he lowered a rope that allowed the others to escape as well—all enemies of the League. You understand, of course, that we were never meant to return here, but it was necessary after the failure in Gotham. When we arrived back here, the area was overridden with our enemies."

Selina looks uncomfortable, she knows that, and Barsad notices it as well.

"He would want you to know this. Bane trusts you—"

"Bull shit," she grunts. Barsad only smiles and continues.

"They were weak. They had been prisoners, after all, malnourished and injured. The League of Shadows had no trouble pushing them to the outskirts of our territory quickly after our return. However, outside our borders there are only more of our enemies—those that would wish to oust us from our position of power. They attack our people daily."

"Is that where Bane is? Defending them?"

"Not quite. It is necessary for him to acquire information regarding the growth in numbers of the enemies. But enough on that, I think." Barsad pours each of them a fresh glass of wine and leans back.

"So, is there anything fun to do around here?" Selina asks. She has been exploring as a pastime—something that would no doubt become boring very soon.

"Hm…You should ask Bane about his books," he says. "The man is a reader. He reads anything and everything. That is why he is so smart."

"He is _really _smart," Selina giggles. "He would beat me at chess, hands down."

"He doesn't play games, _Ms. Kyle_." Barsad slaps the table and points at her. He now has an air of humor, words slurred by alcohol. "He says they are a waste of time and energy."

She groans and gulps down the last of her glass. "Of _course _he doesn't_._" Barsad refills it. They sit in silence for a while, the alcohol beginning to drain their excess energy.

"Hey, Barsad…" A thought crosses her mind. "What was Talia like? I… I don't know anything about her. You knew her, right?"

"Of course," Barsad replies, but his voice has turned dark. He is unsure if it is wise to proceed. "She was…driven. She knew what she wanted and she knew how to get it. She knew how to be persuasive, how to use her qualities for her advantage. She was adept at seeing the strengths in each individual, and understanding how to use them best. She was very intelligent, in a chilling way."

_Driven. _Selina remembers the one time she saw Talia—Talia as Talia, not as Miranda Tate. It was the moments before she died, in the truck that housed the bomb. She thinks about the way Talia spoke—about the overwhelming relief expressed by her body language. Selina no longer remembers Talia's exact words, she was preoccupied with her impending death. She recalls only the breathlessness of the words and the calmness of her body language. Talia believed, in the moments before her death, that she had won. Gotham would be destroyed by a plan that had been years in the making. Selina thinks about the faint smile on Talia's lips as she spoke the final words to them. Again, at the time, Selina felt sickened by it—it had seemed sadistic back then. But now, Selina recognizes that Talia felt _happy_ then. As if that was the only time she had ever felt joy, in all of her existence.

"She wasn't…_happy_, was she?" Selina asks quietly. Barsad's gaze on her face lowers to the table. His fingers touches a stray drop of wine, drags it across the counter thoughtfully, until it reaches the edge.

"No… But you must understand, Selina. Talia was born in the prison. She never knew light, never knew what being happy _meant. _She likely never even considered it. She knew only—"

"Ms. Kyle," Bane's voice booms from the door. She glances at Barsad, but he doesn't seem particularly worried. Selina herself is too buzzed to be phased by Bane's appearance. "Come."

After drowning her remaining half glass of wine, Selina stands. She does so too quickly, stumbles.

"Barsad?" There is no tangible anger in Bane's voice. He simply asks for an explanation.

"I thought Selina could use some company in your absence." From the sound of clinking and clattering, Selina can guess that Barsad has taken it upon himself to clear the counter.

Selina manages to arrive at Bane's side; he looks down at her calmly. "Drinking?"

The question is resonant of another time, in her apartment, during the days of Gotham's siege. It was just before everything fell apart. A sense of foreboding shoots through her gut and her throat closes up.

"Just a bit," Selina admits slowly. She closes her eyes as the room spins. Barsad snorts in the corner and she would glare at him if she wasn't suddenly so dizzy. _Ok, this was a bad idea. _She feels sick and she isn't sure it's completely due to the alcohol, because she really isn't _that_ much of a lightweight.

She presses her back against the door frame opposite Bane and his hand catches her chin so he can look her in the eye. "Can you make it back to the room? I need to have a word with Barsad."

She nods. "He in trouble?" She now feels friendship for Barsad and needs to make sure he won't be punished on account of her.

"Don't concern yourself, Ms. Kyle." She can hear in his voice that the issue is something else entirely. Selina shifts her head towards Barsad in farewell, he does the same, and she ducks out of the room. The lights in the hall are glaring in comparison with those in the kitchen.

* * *

Back in the room, Selina strips down to her bra and underwear and slips under the covers to shield against the chill of the underground. She wants to stay awake until Bane comes back. The alcohol makes her horny and unabashed in the face of earlier qualms towards her relationship with Bane—though, if she were completely honest with herself, the qualms have been easily pushed away as of late. To keep her eyes open, she gazes around the room and wonders where Bane's stash of books could be hidden. There are crates everywhere, massive amounts of boxes and even what appear to be trap doors into the floor. It's a large room, much larger than the apartment they shared in Gotham.

Instead, she finds herself looking for traces of Talia al-Ghul; it is more difficult than expected. But she and Bane must have shared a room as well, right? Or was there relationship not of that variation? Maybe Talia had her own room elsewhere—did Talia ever even live here? When did Miranda Tate arrive in Gotham? Selina cannot recall the first she heard of the woman. It must have been before the rise of the Joker, surely. Selina wants to slap her teenage self for not paying more attention to the Gotham elite back then. If Talia had been in Gotham since before the Joker's rise, and she did not visit, she would have been gone from here for at least ten years.

Still, Selina picks out small things that she imagines are remnants of Talia. She sees the red woven carpet spanning the entire length of the room that she cannot imagine Bane having picked out. She sees what she can only assume are red nail polish stains on the wood floor—they are too bright and clean to be blood splotches. If she _really _focuses, she thinks she may smell a sort of perfume, coating the furniture and the floor. Each mark left behind makes Selina wonder if there is a story surrounding it, something Bane and Talia shared in days gone.

Bane's arrival tears her from her thoughts. He spares her a surveying glance as he crosses the room to the dresser.

"How did you get out of Gotham?" she asks. The question is out of nowhere, even to her own mind. She really wanted to ask about Talia—when she came to Gotham, if she ever lived here and what the relationship between she and Bane was. Still, she feels as if she has finally earned the right to hear the whole story of Bane's exodus from the city. Bane considers her for a long moment, as he strips off his shirt and crawls beneath the covers beside her.

He doesn't look at her as he speaks. "After you attacked me, you and the Batman left before bothering to check whether or not you had done the job. As I explained before, the Venom coursing through my veins allowed me to survive, but only barely. Barsad arrived shortly after; he and a few other members of the League brought me to a safe location while I recovered."

"And no one noticed you were gone?"

"I am not sure, but there was no problem. So far as I am aware, no one searched for my body. The law enforcement system of Gotham did lay in shambles at the time."

Selina nods. Thought it is appalling that no one thought to look for the corpse of the man that brought Gotham to its knees, she remembers her own mental state at the time. It is likely others felt the same.

In the end, she is too tired to initiate sex and Bane seems preoccupied with yet another of his many folders. When she falls asleep, her dreams are filled with dark shadows and the face of a woman she never knew.

* * *

**A/N **Filler, filler, filler. Not the greatest chapter, but there wasn't really a way around it. Also, I would like to vent about the fact that I had this chapter mostly written two days ago and my stupid computer deleted all of it. It should have been up earlier, I apologize about the wait. Also, sorry that this is shorter. The next will be longer, I think.

Happy New Year! I know I keep saying this, but you guys are the best readers anyone could ask for. All the love I have received has been unbearably wonderful. I wish I could hug every single one of you. The way you guys read my writing just makes me so happy- when you pick out specific parts that you liked. Having so many followers is surreal and so many of you seem to have thoughts about what should happen in future chapters. I very much hope I do not disappoint. Until next time, xxx.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Following Barsad's advice, she asked for access to the collection. They filled a previously locked closet in boxes, packed away in every spare space, as if their owner meant to throw them away but could not bring himself to do so. In her time to herself, while Bane is out dealing with the attacks of the enemies, Selina unpacks them and sorts them by category, then alphabetically. She does not even bother trying to count them, there are so many. She wishes for access to actual book shelves, but with everything considered that would be a bit of a luxury.

When she is reading one day, he asks for her thoughts on it. It was only then that she realizes Bane had _actually _read every single one of the books, some multiple times, in order to fully grasp the texts. It was no fluke that he could recite the words of Robert Frost on command.

"Why?" She asks. He shrugs in return.

"In the pit, there was nothing for a child to do. The doctor there, he had many books, in many languages. In return for my help, with patients and medicines, he allowed me to read them."

"So they… were an escape from the prison?" She asks, flipping through a book that seems to be written in German or Dutch—she cannot tell the difference. Bane nods and picks up a copy of _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_, looks at it almost as if it is a familiar acquaintance_. _"It sounds like a terrible place."

"It was, but some days were better than others."

"How long were you there?" She asks, remembering that Bruce was unable to tell her. She imagines Talia there beside him, bringing light to the darkness.

"Many years. I was very young when I was imprisoned, so I do not know the exact amount."

_Young. _"Why were you put there?" What could a child possibly do to warrant being placed in a prison? _Likely something no different than a mother, choosing to be with the man she loves, punished by her own father. _

"My father… committed a crime… I no longer remember what it was, but he died before he could be imprisoned for it. It is custom in this area for the next male relative to be punished in place of a deceased man."

An image of a child flashes through her mind, cowering in darkness, in loneliness, for a crime he did not commit.

Then, she thinks of Bruce, alone and livid after the murder of his parents. She remembers stories of the Bruce Wayne before he decided to have a hand in his father's company. He had been rebellious, filled with destructive anger that made him turn to alcohol, drugs and bitter solitude. His anger persisted for years after, until becoming the Batman brought him the hope he needed for himself—or at least the hope he needed to bring to Gotham. In daylight, he lived in memory of his parents, working for the goals of his father. In the night, he did things his father could never have done, and if he had not done such things, Gotham would have been lost long ago.

_From death, there is life._

* * *

"Ms. Kyle."

"Yeah?" Selina asks, looking up from the book she is reading. She is in the middle of _Les Misérables_. Thankfully, Bane possesses a copy translated into English as well as the original French version—he read both, in order to compare them.

"Come." He extends his arm to her and she takes it so he can help her to stand. "There is something you must see."

His voice is strangely solemn. Selina cocks her head slightly in curiosity, a seed of unease plants itself in her stomach. She considers moving away from him, but his hold on her hand is still firm. When he notices her hesitation, his grip tightens.

"What—" She winces, _Les Misérables _falls from her other hand. "What's going on?"

She looks him in the eyes and what she sees makes her jerk backwards in surprise. He pulls her behind him, out of the room and through the tunnels that make up the League of Shadows' current base.

"Bane! What is going on?!" She raises her voice when she nearly slips, turning a corner too quickly.

"I would appreciate your silence, Ms. Kyle."

Curse words bubble to Selina's lips, but then he stops in front of an door, guarded by a man with a long rifle. The man leans against the wall, but when Bane appears, he stands upright. Bane nods to him and the man parts a curtain hanging across the doorway. As she steps through the doorway, Bane's hand comes down on Selina's shoulder, possessively, and the sensation of his breath moves from distant, upon the nape of her neck, to immediate, on the crown of her head. Selina turns her head fractionally, wondering at the sudden change in Bane's body language. Everything freezes.

She hears him—his sharp, ragged breaths—before she sees him. Before she sees him, she's already screaming his name, wrenching herself from Bane's grip and running to his beaten body in order to save him from whatever horrors the League of Shadows has inflicted upon him.

"Bruce… Bruce, no," she whispers, vibrations of coming sobs moving across her words. There is blood on his hands, definitely his own, and it looks as if he has a blooming black eye. His arms and legs have been bound and a gag restrains him from speaking to her. She feels sick, she doesn't know what to do. Her fingers pull momentarily at the bits of fabric holding him, but they are too tightly bound, she needs a knife. Then, without thinking about the consequences or _who is watching_, she kisses him. First on the eyebrows, then his cheek, then on the corner of his mouth, despite how distorted it is by the gag. And for a blissful second, Selina is far away, with Bruce in their hotel room in Paris. And everything is perfect.

But strong arms, that she can _feel _the angry pulse quivering through, pull her off him, shattering the illusion of another time. Selina crashes into the wall; adrenaline keeps any pain far beneath her notice.

"What did you do to him?!" She demands.

Bane just stares at her and she stalks up to him so that her nose is almost touching the mask. Her neck strains in order to achieve the angle necessary to look him in the eye.

"BANE!" She screams in fury. "Why did you bring him here?!"

_What did I do wrong? _How sick is a relationship, when she must constantly wonder if she is being punished?

"Calm yourself, Ms. Kyle," he says. "Mr. Wayne took it upon himself to come to us."

"No, no, he thought I was _dead!_" Selina looks straight at Bruce, who looks back at her with desperate eyes, his mouth struggling to move against the gag, to little avail.

_"_It would appear my cover-up was not as full-proof as I believed." He sounds bored. "He tracked us down and was attacking some of my guards when I incapacitated him."

He isn't lying. Selina would know if he was, she can read him now, and furthermore he has no reason to do so. Bane holds all the cards. But in the grand scheme of things, that doesn't mean anything. She slowly turns back to Bane, and fear makes her anger melt away.

"What are you going to do with him?"

Bane's hand presses against her neck; she forces herself to be still as he moves his palm slowly, grazing her throat. He lifts his chin towards her—Selina becomes extremely aware of how close they are—then towards Bruce. "What would you _like _me to do with him?"

She doesn't even think about it. "Let him go."

For a moment she actually thinks that their recently improved relationship will make a difference, that he will take pity on her and her past lover and do as she asks. Then Bane laughs.

"And allow him to return in a few days time to make another attempt at stealing what is _mine_? I think not."

The way he says 'mine' sends a shiver down her spine. She wishes that Bruce hadn't heard it, but he did and she squeezes her eyes shut in shame because that is what she _is. _She is Bane's and it doesn't go both ways. Bane will never be hers—he belongs to a dead woman. The thought, which she hasn't really come to terms with until now, ties her stomach in knots. _Do I want him to be mind?_

"P-please don't kill him," she whispers, quietly enough that only Bane can hear.

Bane cocks his head, speaks at full volume: "So shall I cut off his legs? Torture him?"

She takes another half step closer, so her feet brush his and she has to turn her head and look up at him out of the corner of her eye. "No. _Please._"

He releases her neck and if it's even possible, he moves closer to her. "What will you do for me, if I leave him be?"

"_Anything._" And it is genuine. She will do anything to keep this man safe. For so long, he tried to do that for others. It is only fair that someone does so for him. Furthermore, she loves him. She never stopped. Surely Bane knows this.

But as the word comes out, she feels any tolerance she and Bane had built up towards one another over the months dissolve. Bane's eyes flash in pure anger and it occurs to Selina that she said completely the wrong thing—she should have thought it through and worked towards curbing whatever jealousy Bane felt towards Bruce, because regardless of what she said it would ultimately be Bane that decides Bruce Wayne's fate.

His hand closes around her neck again and he lifts her feet off the floor. He manages to balance her weight so that she does not choke, and is only uncomfortable. He looks as if he might say something scathing, but then he just drops her to the floor. She falls backwards, onto the floor.

"Well, Mr. Wayne," Bane says, towering over both of them. He turns away from Selina, dismissively. "It would appear you are spoken for. How fortunate."

Bane believes it to be anything but fortunate. He grabs Bruce's collar and drags him from the room. In the motion, his gag moves, barely, allowing him to yell out across the room.

"Selina—" His voice is raspy, but it is still hers. She feels in her gut that she will never hear it again. "I'm sorry!"

Selina doesn't know what Bruce has to be sorry for. For not successfully saving her, when she did not truly need to be saved? For not giving up on her even though she is long lost? But he is gone, as is Bane, and the curtain swings shut behind them, functioning as much as a locked door as anything, because, though Bane didn't say anything, she knows that she is expected to wait for him to return. She is alone again; she realizes that everything has broken again. She and Bane are back to square one, and who knows if they will ever be repaired after this?

She has never hated herself more.

* * *

When Bane comes back, there is a small patch of blood on the shoulder of his shirt, and more across his knuckles. Selina forces herself to look away from it, but in her mind she sees Bane's fist pounding into Bruce's restrained body, breaking his nose, his ribs, Bruce coughing up onto his shirt.

"I didn't want him to come here," she tells him, and it's the truth. _As if it will make a difference._

"I should hope not."

Selina feels it in her heart that Bane is going to hit her, beat her. She _knows_, because there is no other way that he can react, no other outcome of Bruce arriving and Selina begging Bane not to hurt him. Her imaginings of what Bane is capable of doing to her, likely _will_ do to her, are almost as bad as when he actually did such things. Almost.

So, as Bane approaches her from the doorway, eyes locked on her face, Selina prepares herself mentally. There is no way to prepare herself physically. _Fuck_, why did she leave herself this vulnerable? Why did she not try to escape? How many chances did she have? Innumerable. This isn't even masochism, this is _stupidity_.

But the strike never comes. Bane pulls her to her feet and leads her into the hall, back to their room.

* * *

**A/N **Hi darlings. Have I told you lately that you are wonderful? Because you really are. Every single one of you has something interesting to say about this story. You all are reading from a different perspective, too, which makes it even cooler when I have half of you wanting her to be with Bane and the other half wanting her to be with Bruce. It makes me laugh, but also a little sad, because I can't make all of you happy. :( I hope the readers I disappoint won't kill me. Until next time, xxx

_PS: Sorry about the long wait in between updates. I know, I suck. _


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N **I may or may not have listened to the Les Miserables soundtrack while writing this. Anne Hathaway is pretty much the most talented person ever.

**Chapter 20**

Fives days later, Bane leaves on what she judges to be an overnight journey, due to the way he packs a bag, and Selina tries to run. Bane still chooses to leave the door unlocked, so it isn't particularly difficult, at least until she runs into a group of his followers near what she assumes must be the door to the outside world.

She doesn't want to go there so soon. She wanted to find Bruce, to free him and take him with her, so they could be free again. But she never really took the time to figure out the way the base is laid out and therefore she doesn't know where prisoners are kept. She must have gone in completely the wrong direction. News travels quickly among the men that have nothing to do but guard and wait for orders from Bane, so when Selina arrives before them, they are under no delusions of why she is there.

Even in her untrained, unexercised state, individually, she could take them. Hell, she could likely even take two, three of them at one time. There are ten, total, and they destroy her. Selina doesn't know what it is like to be defeated by men (with the exception of Bane) and the feeling is degrading in a way that she does not know how to deal with. By the time they drag her into a cell that she believes—wishes—_imagines _must not be too far from where Bruce is kept, she has two broken ribs, a sprained wrist and a bloodied face. In comparison to what Bane will do to her when he returns, she is lucky.

An immeasurably long amount of time passes before he returns—long enough that she eventually succumbs to the pain and falls into a deep sleep.

When she wakes, it is back in a bed. Her clothes have been changed and her wounds cleaned. Bane next to her, reading a book in a language with an entirely different alphabet that she cannot recognize. When her breathing picks up, he turns his eyes to her. After he stares unmoving at her for a long moment, Selina rolls her eyes.

"I'm out of touch, all right?"

His arm reaches out, towards her battered face, and Selina cannot prevent herself from flinching away from impending pain. She can feel the bruises throbbing on her split lip, can taste blood there. But his hand only cups her chin and turns her face, lightly, as if there is an actual effort made to cause her as little pain as possible. She diverts her eyes, finally, looking down to her scraped, quivering fingertips. Bits of blood soak her cuticles and she imagines it as red nail polish that she never completely got off instead.

Bane removes his hand, stepping away from the bed. He returns with a white bottle and a glass of water. The bottle rattles when he puts it on the wobbly bedside table. _Painkillers. _

What is it with Bane and painkillers? She can deal with this—it isn't so bad. She turns slightly and winces when her broken ribs sting with white hot pain.

"Take these. I trust you won't overdose." He walks towards the door. "Do not try to run again." His voice is stern, as if scolding a child. That's what Selina feels like, these days: a little kid. Bane is stronger than her, smarter than her, and while he can leave and go out into the real world, she is stuck in perpetual 'time-out'.

Bane leaves, locking the door behind him, and she opts to ignore the pills.

* * *

Her life is frozen. She wonders how it became this way, but more than that she wonders how she can break out of it, or if she even wants to. Change, at this point, is dangerous. Not for herself, but for Bruce.

One night, weeks later, after she is fully healed, Bane's fingers find their way under her robe. She was reading and she _thought _he was too. His thumb traces up from her curly pubic hair up to her naval and back. After a short moment, he finds her clit and presses down, tightly, so that even when Selina tries to roll away, his thumb stays there. His other arm loops around her middle, to lay between her stomach and the mattress and effectively hold her in place.

Only once Selina is sullenly still does Bane actually begin to move his thumb, down her slit and back up again to swirl around her clitoris before repeating the pattern. Her hips buck backwards, a drop of liquid trickles down her thigh.

He takes her from behind. He doesn't bother to fully remove the robe from her body, instead chooses to operate around it, but Selina can feel his bare hips pressing rhythmically into her regardless. She moans his name and he moans her surname and it is all very _ordinary_ (for them, at least), until something vital breaks within her.

She feels it and seizes up, all trace of arousal gone from her despite the fact that Bane continues to pound on. Suddenly she both does and does not understand the world around her.

_Oh, god. _

She realizes that they, she and Bane, _aren't _oscillating between trust and hatred, as she had despaired when Bruce first arrived. They change each time something occurs that breaks the fabric of their created life—they _grow. _After all, following Bruce's failed infiltration Bane didn't beat her, nor did he when she tried to run. He may keep her locked in his room, but that's a million times better than the tiny, dark room he originally kept her in. He didn't even take away her access to the collection of books. But, interestingly enough, Bane never even uses Bruce as a tool to control her. He never even really mentions the fact that Selina's ex-lover is being held captive somewhere in the base.

_He probably assumes that it's implied. _And it is. No matter what Bane does to her, she doesn't complain. She follows his every direction and she keeps her sarcasm to a minimum, only using it when she is completely sure the monster of a man will appreciate it. She is, as he would put it, _agreeable_.

But while things may seem impossibly bad to her dramatically despairing mind, she also sees that there is hope.

"What is it, Ms. Kyle?" Selina realizes that Bane has finished. She doesn't reply, so he pulls out and flips her over to look her in the face.

"Are you thinking about Mr. Wayne?" His fingers rub across her scalp, moving hair in between his fingers. Selina wonders if it is meant to be threatening or simply pensive, on his part. There are so many more possibilities now, it seems.

"No," she answers. She can't tell from his expression whether or not he believes her, but he rolls to the side and stands, replacing his trousers and shirt. Selina fixes her own clothing, assessments and plans and decisions forming inside her mind.

* * *

First, she must let go of her fear of Bane. He may deny that her fear actually exists and, furthermore, he may feel only anger towards her now, but that must change first with her. The questions that she has must be answered. Some are more vital than others, but she has to start small.

"Can I ask you something?" He gives her a curt nod without looking up.

"You were a child when you were put in the Pit, right?" He nods again. "Did you know your mother?"

Bane looks up and stares through her; his eyes are a strange mixture of anger, confusion and fragility.

Selina gives, in hope that Bane will allow her to take, admitting, "I knew mine, but I kind of wish I didn't. She was a mess, couldn't hold a job, weird men always coming in and out of the house. It's a miracle I didn't starve, honestly."

She pauses Bane does not even blink and it is a bit alarming. "She… died from a drug overdose when I was sixteen, so I was practically already grown up by then. That's why I don't like… painkillers… or any drug."

Selina chides herself, _this was a stupid idea. _Why would Bane offer up such petty information?

Then, he says, "I never knew my mother." The words are short, they almost sound final, as if he is unsure if he wants to continue. To both of their surprise, he does. "I cannot even recall her face. All I had, in the pit, was a stuffed bear that I can only assume was made by her hands." He pauses and Selina thinks she can detect the smallest of smiles beneath the mask. "It's name was Osito."

_Osito. _The image born in her mind, weeks and weeks ago, of Bane as a child, cowering alone in the dark, shifts—the child now holds a battered teddy bear. The dam opens. Everything that was held back over the previous weeks floods out. _Don't stop now. _

"And your father? How did he die?"

"He was found dead outside a tavern in a nearby village one evening—stabbed. He had tried to run from his condemnation to the pit. No one made an attempt to find the murderer because my father was a guilty man."

Selina considers this, wondering at the difference in governing in these lands, in comparison to what she is used to. She is lost in her thoughts, so she does not at first notice Bane gazing at her, waiting for the story of her own father.

"Oh—he… I didn't know him. I'm not sure my mom even really knew who he was…" She can't stop herself from grimacing, but she laughs when she realizes it. "He was probably… one of my mom's _extremely _temporary boyfriends. All of them were garbage."

She doesn't bother trying to keep the bitterness from her voice. The thought of her scumbag father's DNA running through her veins disgusts her. She knows what the men that hung around her mother were like—druggies, gang members, vagrants and drifters that knew they could bum on idiot women's couches. They were the type of men Selina grew up to beat to hell whenever she got the chance. The bottom line is that Selina hated men for most of her life. The hatred was well founded, and no one, with the exception of Bruce Wayne, ever gave her a reason to change her mind. _Especially not Bane._

She tenses. This is the point of making contact to this degree, but she doesn't know how to go about asking.

"I have another question." She looks Bane square in the face. He nods at her to continue. "From what I've seen of your little operation here, you aim to serve what you consider to be the better good. I… I find it a little hard to believe that you would resort to a method as… extreme…as rape…"

It is an awkward discussion to have, and one that stretches to the core of their relationship.

"I'm not hearing a question, Ms. Kyle."

She snaps, the question coming out as bluntly as possible. "Why did you _sexually assault_ me, Bane?"

She says 'did' rather than 'do' before she can stop herself, but if Bane notices he doesn't let on.

"You refer to my methods of… _taming_ you?"

"Yes." She chooses not to dispute whether or not she was 'tamed', because the emphasis on the word expresses his own disbelief in his success.

He stares at her for a moment, considering her with so much intensity that discomfort begins to spread across her body. She is barely able to keep from shifting or looking away. "You needed to be saved."

"_Saved?_" She hadn't really known what to expect, but it certainly wasn't _that. _"Saved from _what? _What does that mean?"

He moves the papers away and looks straight at her. "Your lifestyle was eating away at you."

She still doesn't get it, but he doesn't seem to want to elaborate. "And the one you _forced on me_ didn't?!" _Is he seriously trying to say that he was looking out for my best interests? _

He shrugs, angering her even more. "I researched you intensely before bothering to recruit you. Therefore, I knew simple coercion would not be enough to convince you—nor would money. Furthermore, I knew very well what you were willing to do for what you considered a good cause."

"I was _not _a hooker," she hisses, interrupting him. "I did what I had to do to _survive_—to make a _difference_!"

"As do I, Ms. Kyle, as I always have done, even as a child in the prison. That does not mean one is unable to change for the better." Selina recognizes his exasperation growing into annoyance to match her own fury. He sounds as if this is the last topic he wishes to discuss. Again, it is as if he is trying to teach a child a necessary lesson. "Have we not yet gone beyond the point of explanation for the actions taken in Gotham City?"

She shoots a glare at him, vehemently denying that they have. He shakes his head in mock amusement, scoffs, "Would you prefer I _apologize_?"

Selina ignores his question—she's thinking about Talia again, about how the woman was born in those exact conditions. She was born in darkness, but the darkness isn't what made her what she was, before she died. It was the world outside that made her that way, that gave her the idea it needed to be purified.

"You said you did what you had to do, in the Pit. Talia, she was the same, but she escaped. Why didn't you?"

Bane's growing anger falls away. Selina can't help but think, with a bit of sickness, that the smile growing on Bane's face looks _fond. _"I saved Talia, from the darkness. There was no one to save me."

_Sometimes, we need to be saved. _Bane saved Talia, a _child_, from certain rape, a fate her mother likely suffered from daily. Forget the League of Shadows, why would Bane—specifically, Bane—rape her?

The answer hits her: Bane is delusional, frighteningly so, but he is delusional of the greater good within each person (no doubt inherited from a young Talia). It was not his idea to level Gotham, it was Talia's—Talia, who had lost all faith in humanity following Bane's abuse first at the hands of his fellow prisoners, and then at the hand of her father. Bane's own words echo in her ears: _That does not mean one is unable to change for the better. _Selina doubts that Bane continues becoming a rapist 'changing for the better'. In that light, could it not also have been Talia's command that Bane took such total control of Selina's life? That she gave the express command that Selina be raped is unlikely, considering what Talia may have very nearly been subject to in the Pit, but that doesn't mean Bane would not choose to make the decision to go against his morals in an effort to carry out Talia's will. For every second of his life before the moment he dragged Selina to the floor and took her by force, he was honorable, righteous at least to his own eyes.

Selina's thoughts freeze. Is it possible that she is only considering the past in this light because she doesn't want to let herself believe Bane would willingly attack her, even when he didn't know her. The man is a monster, right? She used to think those words constantly, even say them out loud, to his face.

_No. _That can't be it, because if that's the sort of thing Bane is _comfortable _doing, then why—?

Something changed; the way he treated her shifted. Was it when he wrote his name in her skin? Was it when she continued to be defiant under any pressure he supplied? Was it when she tried to kill him? Or perhaps it was simply the extension of the pity he likely felt for Selina, as a victim of rape, when he was forced to discard his own values for the sake of Talia's battle? Everything after the first five or so months was his anger and their inability to move beyond the violence they were founded on. Selina cannot remember when their relationship altered, but it undeniably had done so. Whereas he had once been indifferent aside from Selina's various uses, he somehow became focused on her, one among a city of others. Though his words—_your lifestyle was eating away at you_—anger her, she can see, looking back, how many of his actions fit the stated goal. He sought to reform her, to free her from enslavement at her own hands, at the hands of the vermin inhabiting Gotham. This was all despite the fact she, along with the rest of her city, would be destroyed in a matter of months.

_But why keep me? _Once it was apparent that Selina would no longer give her body to strangers (due to Bane's branding), once it was impossible that she be reformed completely in the way Bane intended, once she was trapped within the confines of Gotham City until the day of its impending destruction, once she attempted to kill him, once her use had long expired why did he come back for her? Why not leave her be, or just kill her?

_Why didn't he let me go?_

She can't think straight. Bane has already gone back to his books. It doesn't match up, and though the answer stares her straight in the face, she can't believe it because it is completely ridiculous.

Because maybe Bane didn't let her go because he didn't want to. Maybe whatever initial need he had for her skills or desire for her liberation at his hands melted away into something far stronger and far more horrific.

_Maybe he loves me._

* * *

After that terrible revelation, things begin to change.

For the weeks following it, Selina moves between believing herself to be crazy and becoming slowly convinced that she is correct.

Sometimes, Bane does everything to disprove the theory. He is angry and hateful, reacting at even the smallest comment or action in a negative. This is normal, and over the months Selina has grown used to the tenseness. But other times small things jump out at her. Little things like a barely affectionate comment or a lingering gaze that, if they were real and did actually exist before, she had never noticed.

Then, in the evening, when Bane goes somewhere to eat and she sits by herself, she remembers. All the things he'd done, the way he used to look at her, the subtle changes in their relationship over the months gone by.

One night, she sleeps and she dreams.

She dreams of a man. He is tall and strong and beautiful. His eyes are dark and light at the same time—mesmerizing. He is mostly hairless, but Selina likes the way he is smooth and firm beneath her hand. His hands are perfect, fingers long and full of strength, warm when they weave in between hers.

His face is flawless. His nose is chiseled, his cheekbones and forehead are perfectly formed. His lips are full and when he smiles his cheeks rise up towards his eyes, alight. When he kisses her, each lip molds against her own in a way so sensual it could only occur in a dream.

She doesn't realize who the man is until she is awake.

_Bane. _

Suddenly, she desperately needs to see him. She needs to hear his voice, garbled by the mask which is a part of him, but also is not. She leaps out of bed and runs to the door. It is locked and she bangs on it, trying to gain the attention of the men outside guarding the room.

"Hey! Let me out!" She says the words in a garbled version of the local tongue she is beginning to learn.

"Are you quite alright?" Bane says from behind her. He had been in bed with her and she failed to notice. She turns on her heel and the moment of sleep-induced euphoria wanes.

"_Ah_—" Dead air. All her words fall to dead air. They melt into nothingness and before she can stop it from happening, they disappear from her entirely. As if they never were there. "…Nothing… Sorry…"

"Did you have a nightmare?"

She wants to laugh, because it was the farthest from a nightmare a dream could ever be. "Sort of."

"Aren't you a bit old to be so affected by bad dreams?" He sounds annoyed, but also as if he is enjoying this. She doesn't reply. She just crawls back into bed and tries to surreptitiously curl up in the empty space beside his body. The idea makes her feel ridiculously guilty, but, despite herself, she wishes he would put his arm around her and pull her close.

He doesn't. The moment she feels comfortable he stands and pulls a shirt over his head, preparing himself for the day. She turns her head into the pillow and refuses to let her silent shame show.

* * *

**A/N **Wow. Big chapter. Important chapter. Dramatic chapter. I had so many emotions while writing it, to be honest. I also had more difficulty with this than any other chapter, which is ridiculous because I've had the majority of it written for months, but there were quite a few gaps. As you can see, it includes the promised explanation for the rape. **PLEASE NOTE: I am in no way saying this explanation makes the rape ok. **Because it will never be ok.

I recommend checking out the finalized soundtrack for this fic (go to my tumblr, luvkurai, and click 'Writing Etc') because it is relevant. And stuff.

_**ALSO**_**: **There will be more chapters than I expected. I am no longer sure exactly how many there will be. I think 24 + an epilogue. I think. I expanded a lot of parts so the original outline is no longer relevant. So we'll be together for a bit longer than expected. :) Which makes me happy, because you all are wonderful people and I want to send you flowers and chocolate. And I know I suck at updating. I hope this chapter made up for it... The next will definitely not be this long. xxx


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Four days later, she finally works up a small amount of courage and asks: "Why do you wear the mask?"

"You know why," he replies. It's true; Bruce told her, months and months ago. It is a stupid question. But, if she's honest with herself, she knows it as a moment of cowardice. She meant to ask if she could see his face and was unable to get the words out. But to her surprise, he continues speaking. "It provides me with the chemicals I need to function."

She is a bit taken aback—the words are laced with consideration towards her. He knows she wants to talk about it and he is helping her to do so, sidestepping the impending discomfiture. "For the pain… from the wounds?"

"Yes."

"Is it bad?"

He breathes out, exhalation raspy against the tiny holes in the mask. Selina realizes that she doesn't really notice the mask anymore, barely looks at it. There are so many other parts of Bane to look at. Why look at the one part of him that is static when the rest of him is so expressive? "Sometimes worse than others. It depends."

"How do you eat?" He must have his diet perfected, to be able to keep up such a large body mass while eating in such a small amount of time. As far as Selina can tell, he never has the mask off for more than ten minutes a day, sometimes less.

"Quickly. I take the mask off to eat and wash up a bit." She nods absently. She wants to say it. She desperately wants to but, despite herself, she's afraid of rejection and he makes her feel impossibly small.

"You want to see?" Her eyes flash up to meet his. Her mouth opens and closes; there are no words. She nods.

"Come," Bane says, motioning to her with his head. On unwavering legs, he leads her to the bathroom. He withdraws a small container filled with tools she doesn't recognize, picks up one and sets to work, dismantling the mask. It takes well under five minutes, but she knows the time is narrowed down from years of practice. When he first put the mask on, it likely took much longer—likely one of the more terrible of his struggles. She stares unblinkingly, unflinchingly, as the pieces of the mask melt away and she looks at Bane's face for the first time.

For a moment that goes on for decades, centuries, she doesn't breathe. She doesn't move. She doesn't even blink; Bane stands just as still.

She does not know what she expected. Maybe she thought it would be the same man from her dream, unchanged, in all that glorified perfection that created the crevice now gaping wide open inside her gut. Maybe she thought the damage would be barely noticeable, a single scar, visible only from a single angle. But she heard the story—there is no reason for her to be so shocked at the sight of Bane's face.

The skin is red and irritated, especially around the edges. If she looks carefully enough, she can see the faint lines of muscle, only barely hidden by a thin, torn layer of skin. His lips are almost entirely gone. The bottom of the nose is nothing but a slit, and the skin there hangs on, as if by a single thread of skin. It would no doubt cause more pain fully removed. Everything else is raw looking, as if it should be bleeding down his face, not strangely preserved. _This is what he got, for saving a child. _

Selina imagines a world where he made a different choice. She imagines the life she could have had, the things she could have experienced—the things _Bane _would have experienced if Talia had not survived. What could they have done, if Talia was not alive to bring hell to Gotham City? Would they have even met?

If she looks hard enough she can see the remnants of what may have once been the man from her dream, but it is impossible to know. In reality, no matter how hard she looks, she only sees the monster. In order to see the man that once was there, she has to pretend.

She used to be good at pretending. Memories come to the forefront of her mind—her whole childhood was built on pretending. The nights when her mother would stumble home drunk or high or both and she would pretend she was ten years older than she really was, helping a woman in the hospital to get back to her bed safely. The days when the kids at school, the girls especially, broke out into fights so vicious that she had no choice but to pretend she was capable of taking them on, even the older ones that towered above her head. It only took a couple black eyes, a few sprained wrists and twisted ankles, before she didn't have to pretend anymore.

Pretending kept her alive, kept her safe. When men would have had her killed for being too strong, when Gotham's government would have had her locked up for being too smart, she was weak, she was stupid.

But she can't pretend anymore, she's lost all energy, all will to even bother lying to herself. The man from before no longer exists. He was peeled away, layer by layer, until only the primal, ideological being hidden inside every human being was left. The man from her dream was innocent; the man before her is anything but.

The most grounding observation of the entire situation is that it changes nothing. It doesn't change the way she feels. He _is_ a monster, but what does that make her?

She is no better, she realizes. She has her sins and he has his and that means that, in the end, they deserve each other. She wishes the idea would make her feel sick, even a little, would make her feel guilty, at least, but it doesn't.

Despite being obviously in pain, Bane stares at her levelly. He wants to see her reaction, when it comes. Selina holds it back for a few moments. Though she has been allowing herself to slip recently, she is well practiced at hiding her emotions from others—even Bane. Her face is blank as she turns away to grab the mask off the table. She can see the slight twitches of pain in his body language, not yet brutal, simply an annoyance.

Regardless of her desire to see his face, to see what he keeps hidden beneath the mask, it does not outweigh her displeasure at seeing him in pain—especially pain inflicted due to good deeds done years ago. Without turning her eyes away from his face for even a moment, she moves her arm to snatch the mask off the worn countertop. She hands him the mask and watches as, slowly, the face disappears again, beneath manufactured metal and tubes of painkillers.

_This is all wrong_, she thinks as Bane finishes constructing the mask, as the straps holding it in place fall across the light tan lines left behind on his face. The thought repeats itself when Bane takes off his shirt and moves to remove Selina's robe. His fingers pause at the hemline, eyes meeting hers to ask for some sort of permission. She nods, feeling her stomach clench impossibly tight. _This is all wrong. I love Bruce_, she tells herself for what must be the millionth time, but it isn't that simple anymore. _As if it was ever simple. _

But almost as soon as she finishes nodding and the cloth is removed, she shakes her head again, backing up into the wall and finally looking away from Bane. Something is wrong, something is off but she can't, for the life of her, figure out what it is.

She looks up at him, hoping to convey this emotion through a simple glance. _Help me. _Somehow, it works. He presses into her, against the wall, and when she looks carefully she can see that Bane's eyes are the same as her—they hold the same emotion, the same anger and confusion and mixture of love and hate and everything in between. That stand like that for a while, pressed against each other.

"Bane," she says, once the feeling finally passes. His name on her lips is a weight that drags everything inside her through the floor. "Bane."

His fingers move to the base of her throat, where it slowly twists and turns until he can cup the nape of her neck. He doesn't say her name, but if he did, in such a moment, she recognizes that she would feel inexplicably disappointed. There is a realization, now, that she doesn't need him to say her name to know who she is. She doesn't need a city in shambles to define her, to give her a purpose in life. She doesn't need Bruce in all his good glory and nobleness, because she was only noble once and it nearly killed her.

But she needs Bane. Despite everything, despite how much she hates him, despite how much he must hate her, despite everything he's ever done to her and everything he ever will, she knows this to be true. She simply cannot be without him.

For having such a revelation, she feels strangely empty. In the end, the emptiness can only be filled by Bane's hands, everywhere. They move back into the bedroom and she helps his trousers to fall to the floor. They fall back on the bed and Selina moves her hand across the mask and over his eyes, feeling a sense of ridiculous power when he leans into her touch, ever so slightly.

There is a knock at the door. Bane pulls the sheet over Selina and re-clothes himself quickly, disregarding his heavy erection entirely. It is Barsad.

"Bane," he nods quickly in greeting. "The enemy has crossed the new borders."

"Already." Bane's single word response is not a question, nor is it an expression of surprise—he was expecting this.

Barsad shifts his head to glance at Selina momentarily before looking back at Bane. The distance is too great for her to tell why he spared a moment when he is obviously in such a rush. "Yes. They attacked Tiran. Many have died."

Selina can recognize the name of this village as well—it is the town most loyal to the League. _This _shocks Bane.

"They were sorely outnumbered," the second-in-command supplies. "From what the men that made it back have told me, the original number of those escaped from the Pit has doubled—they've been recruiting those from the other side of the border. _Adamantly_."

Bane's breath is low and anxious, to more of a degree than Selina has ever heard from him. "Very well."

Bane leaves, he has no choice, and Selina can see in the glance he spares for her that he does not wish to go.

He is not gone for much time, but it is long enough that Selina drifts into a light sleep. When he returns and crawls into bed beside her, she wakes for just long enough to curl into the warmth and comforting scent of sweat and blood and masculinity that he carries with him.

* * *

The next morning, she wakes long before him, in what she assumes are the early hours of the morning. She forces herself to keep still, to resist the incessant urge to run the tips of her fingers across his toned chest and arms. Eventually, the emotions from the night before catch up with her and she slowly rises from the bed to rush into the bathroom. For a few minutes, she coughs and gags into the toilet, crying all the while until she calms down and is able to wipe the tears from her face.

_He will say no, _Selina tells herself, as she gets back into bed. _He has no reason to say yes. _

But, she can't help but remember that if she is right about Bane's feelings towards her, he does have a reason.

After hours of deliberation, she comes to a decision. It is simple enough, but if Bane proves to be a larger issue, it could become complex, possibly worsen the situation. She rehearses the words over and over again in her mind, each time altered and perfected, or worsened.

She can't be a part of the League of Shadows, and if he cares for her as much as she suspects, he will give up whatever past he has here.

She wants to leave this place, forever, and she wants Bane to go with her. After everything, this is the only thing she wants. She is willing to give Bane everything, so long as he does this for her. This, and one other, small thing.

His eyes do not flutter or flicker open. One moment he is deep in sleep and the next he is awake, alert, ready for the day. Almost as soon as he wakes, he glances down at Selina, recognition that she has been awake for quite awhile dawning on his features.

"Good morning," she whispers. Not wanting to wait a moment longer she speaks seriously, so Bane understands immediately that it is a serious matter. "I have a request."

"Is that so?" He sits up and stretches more a moment. Selina can read it as stalling for time, an attempt to guess at what she wants. As he stands, his hand slides absently up and down her leg. When he's gone, she feels uncomfortably cold. He pulls a shirt on and throws her the robe she wore the night before. She takes a moment to wrap it around herself so it can slightly replace the warmth of the shared bed—it does nothing against the poisoning silence.

"Very well. What is your request?" His words break the tension eating away at them and he looks at her with great expectation.

"Can I see Bruce?" She asks quickly. Bane holds a book open in his hands, planning to read it once Selina is done speaking. "I don't need to talk to him or touch him or anything. I just want to see him."

She doesn't even really _want_ to talk to him. Any conversation with him would seem ridiculously forced and leave her evidently traitorous. She just… needs to look at him, one more time.

_Then, _she promises herself. _Then, I will move on. I'll ask Bane._

He looks at her for a long time—longer than she would expect. _He doesn't want me to see him. _Her stomach silently gurgles. Why did she think this was an ok thing to ask? How could she be so stupid?

She almost turns away to go back to her book, when she sees some barrier in his eyes fall. It makes her entire body snap to attention. He doesn't say anything else, he doesn't need to.

"_What…?"_ She demands. She feels her body temperature rising rapidly. Bane sets his own book down on the table, closing it without bothering to save his place. "Did you do—?"

She doesn't even know what to ask. She can't think straight. The expression on Bane's face—it's—

"Bruce Wayne died from the fever three weeks ago."

_No. _Her heart constricts and it is the first time she truly and completely breaks—in front of him or otherwise. She doesn't need to see proof, she doesn't need to ask him for it. This isn't some game. This is real. "_No."_

There's a sound in her ears—a sound she can neither place, nor comprehend. The sound grows until it consumes her. It grows shrill and deafening and only when she fears her eardrums may break does she realize the sound is her own sob, building up and breaking like a waterfall crashing down on jagged, deathly rocks below. She cuts herself off and stands. There are tear drops on the bed, on the floor.

She moves to the door, which is, of course, locked. She looks around the room wildly and her eyes lock on Bane. When she reaches him, his hand catches her elbow, holding her tightly. His touch sends angry electricity through her body and she can't _think _except to know that she has to get away from him, has to get out of this place, _now._ Deft fingers succeed in snatching a key from Bane's pocket and adrenaline allows her to separate her arm from his grip. In a flash she's out the door, first walking quickly, then jogging, then sprinting through the halls, towards the direction she _knows _must be the exit.

She has to get out. She needs to leave. She knows Bruce died here and she can't bear to spend another moment there—especially in the bed of the man who is almost entirely responsible for his death. The only other guilty party is herself, for not escaping from Bane, for not being strong enough to kill him years ago.

She reaches the exit and the guards do not stop her. Maybe she's too fast, maybe they're so stunned that she made it this far, maybe she beats them to crap before they can so much as leave a scrape, maybe they assume Bane allowed her to do so, but they don't stop her. The next moment she is out the door, in the dry desert, looking up at the late-morning sun. It is the first time she has been outside in eighteen months.

This land is cursed. The land is ripe with blood and death and destruction. But it isn't just the desert, it's everything. Everything she has ever seen and everything she ever will see, which, if she's lucky, will not be much more. The palms of her hands press into her ears and she cries out again. Bile surges to her tongue and she gags up the small amount of water she retained from being sick hours earlier. When she is finished, she squats above the sand, the dirt, and it burns the soles of her feet. The callouses on her feet are long gone.

A hand touches her shoulder and she sees Bane at her side. Anger breaks through. She wrenches herself from his grasp, only to be pulled back against him.

Despite the heat, he pulls her flush against his body. He holds her close despite her struggles and she knows this isn't about possession, this isn't about him refusing to let her go. This is him understanding that if he _does _let her go she will cease to exist. Her life would be forfeit. Little does he know, it is too late for such sentiment.

So he gathers her into his arms and carries her back down into the caverns below. He takes her to their bed and strips both of them of all their clothes, only barely worn, everything except his mask and the scars on her back: _BANE. _

He loops his arms around her waist and keeps her there for hours, all day long, until the fight in her dies away and she becomes a quivering, sobbing mess. He holds her until she falls into dreamless sleep, and for long after.

* * *

**A/N **So I wanted to make sure I gave you guys a chapter for Valentine's Day... but it is pretty much the biggest downer ever. Sorry. Yes. I killed off Bruce Wayne. I'm sorry if you hate me for it :( Believe it or not, I've had this planned since the beginning. Sorry to all the people that wanted Selina to be with Bruce. Thank you for all the kind reviews (200, GUYS! HOLY CRAP!)

So I've gotten some questions about what I'll be writing next and I honestly don't know. I have an unfinished Avengers fix laying around, but I'd like to do more with Bane and Selina. But no idea what. So if you want to send me a prompt in a PM here or on tumblr, it might make the writing process a tad easier. Not making any promises that I'll fill every (or even any) prompt. But idk. If there are certain things you'd like to see more of, let me know. Until next time, xxx.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

"There was nothing we could do," he tells her. "I had my best doctors working on him, the best in the area. Even in his home country, nothing would have saved him once he was infected."

She has stopped speaking to Bane all together. It isn't a form of rebellion, she just has no words. Even when asked a direct question, the answer does not meet her lips because it is never birthed. With the death of Bruce, she truly has lost everything. She is alone in a hell that consumes every fiber of her being and, as always, there is no escape. Bane continues to make sure of that. He no longer hurts her in any way. They no longer have sex, because she would never initiate such a thing and he does not stoop to raping her. While they may sleep in the same bed, his touches are only ever gentle and chaste, weak attempts to pull her from the melancholic reverie, meant to offer comfort despite the fact that none will be received.

In fact, she never really does anything anymore, at least when Bane is in the room. She lays still on the bed, back flat against the mattress. He brings simple meals of bread and soup to her side. When he moves the food to her lips she forces herself to take it in, not out of hunger, but to get him to leave her alone.

Every other time that she eats, the food comes back up later, when he is gone from the room on one of his frequent missions away from the compound. The food and water that she does digest keeps her barely alive. In addition, it is only during these times that Selina speaks at all—she mumbles apologies to people that can no longer hear them, prays to gods that refuse to do so. She whispers questions aloud to no one and gives answers that are forgotten instantly, sobs her anguishes to the indifferent cement walls. But before Bane returns from dealing with the rebels she is back in bed, lying still. If he can tell her anguish from her puffy eyes, the faint wet streaks upon her face, he does not let on; perhaps he simply does not know what to do about it.

* * *

Five full weeks of this pass before she decides to end it.

Taking the chair from the room, she angles it to prevent the door to the rustic bathroom from being easily opened. In Bane's quarters, there is a toilet and a bathtub with running water—where it comes from, she does not know, likely a tank that must constantly be refilled. When her weak fingers turn the tap, the water runs cold at first. But after a few moments it begins to warm, steam rising in billowing clouds around her, filling the room with a sort of lustrousglare. Once the bath is full to its very brim, Selina shuts it off and dips a finger inside, feeling the practically bubbling water burn the skin of her finger. In her other hand is the bottle of painkillers that have never left the bedside table since she was beaten by Bane's dogs for trying to take Bruce and run for it. The seal on the bottle is not even broken.

She sits on the cool tile for a long time, until the heat of the water fades away to become faintly lukewarm.

It shouldn't hurt this much. She has lost him before, thought him dead. She should be prepared for this loss. She knew it had to happen, eventually. He could not live as a captive of the League of Shadows forever. She should have been prepared.

But she wasn't.

In one swift motion, she opens the bottle of pills. When the glue cracks, the scent of the drugs fills the air, overwhelming her senses. She empties a handful of large, glossy, white tablets into the palm of her hand. As she lifts one up to her mouth, she thinks better of it, drops the handful to the floor with a clatter. While this way may be so much less painful, she does not want to die in the same way as her mother—she doesn't want to have anything in common with that woman past their shared DNA.

So instead, she places the bottle aside and climbs into the bathtub as she is—without caring to remove her robe. The water spreads over her skin, splashing out of the tub as it is displaced by her small mass. She hasn't bothered to bathe in the weeks since Bruce's death, so to feel the ever-present sweat and grime wash away is relaxing. Next, she releases her hair from its bun. It has grown long now. When she stands it reaches far down her back, nearly covering Bane's mark on her. When it is released into the water it fans around her as the edges weigh down into the water.

She takes a slow breath, then exhales even more slowly. She does not breathe in again before submerging herself in the perfectly clear water. She allows her back to fall against the floor of the tub, her knees curling up to press against her breath. This position gives her leverage against the other side of the tub, making it easier to keep her body from floating upwards. When she opens her eyes, she sees the world above her, a shimmery, beautifully distorted place. It is a mercy that this is the last image of the world she will see.

Her lungs are burning; her eyes twitch and she sees spots. A small bit of fear in the back of her mind screams at her to not breathe in, no matter what. That same part of her makes the tips of her fingers twitch against the floor of the tub, wanting to push towards the air that is teasingly close; provocative.

While, to her former self, this may be the lowest of the low, to the her of now this is the only way out. She does not even consider that what she is doing is self-pitying, immature even. Taking her own life? The last time she even so much as considered it was when she thought everyone was dead, and now is so much worse than then—so much more terrible.

Bruce fills her mind. She sees his eyes, shining despite the darkness that always seemed to be in them. She doesn't believe in heaven, she really doesn't. And furthermore, if heaven is real, hell is as well, and she's known for a long, long time that that is where she will be sent by hardhearted angels and gods.

Bane fills her mind. She breathes in; a gracious reflex rather than a deliberate conscious action.

Water fills her lungs. She wants to scream, the pain is so great, but cannot find the air to do it. Her upper body thrashes, but all the while her legs press against the lower end of the tub, keeping her body in place despite everything.

She closes her eyes, trying not to think about the pain, trying instead to think about how this is a blessing, that she will finally be free of all this pain and cursed emotion that she despises so. As she fades away, there are flashes of light, over and over again, more burning in her chest, in her head (though the pain has now become blissful, filled with adrenaline as her body works perpetually to keep itself alive). As she fades away, she falls into Bruce's arms—warm and pure.

* * *

One of Bane's many books is a collection of the poetry of Emily Dickinson. As far as women go, Ms. Dickinson is nowhere near the most inspiring. She lived out the last of her days in her bedroom, unable to get herself to leave due to an unbeatable fear of everything around her. She never went anywhere, or did anything—she sat at home and scribbled and re-scribbled words until she felt they properly portrayed whatever infantile premonitions she possessed about the world that day.

But as Selina's eyes open, some of Emily's words run through her mind:

_Because I could not stop for Death,_

_He kindly stopped for me._

Why those words would come to her, she does not know; her situation is the opposite after all. _She _stopped for Death. It was _Death _that was unkind, and refused to take her from this place.

When her eyes are fully open, staring silently at the ceiling, a broad hand grasps at her arm. She turns her head the smallest angle possible to be able to see the man's face. His eyes are full of worry; it is not a sight she gains any comfort from.

_I wanted to die_, she want's to say, but she has not spoken in weeks and she can feel from the pain in her throat that words will not come easy—the after effects of nearly drowning. _Why did you bring me back?_

Of all the things he has done to her (not including the death of Bruce Wayne), this seems, in this moment, to be the worst. Why could he not leave her be, let her die if that was what she wanted so badly? She imagines him barging into the bathroom, easily despite the chair used to prevent such a thing. She imagines his arms crashing below her intended watery grave to pull her back to him, to keep her at his side. She imagines him calling a guard into the room to breathe life back into her dorwned body-or perhaps he removed his mask and did it himself?

"Talia…" He begins, and Selina knows there is a story about to be unwound. "…Was a goddess. I knew it from the moment I saw her, in the pit. Others did not. They saw only a child that did not belong. Had I not intervened, her position would be the same as that of her mother—the plaything of the rats that inhabited the prison. Talia's mother died of despair at the knowledge that nothing could be done to save herself—let alone her daughter."

Selina rolls onto her back but still does not look at Bane.

"I… was her protector. It was my one place in the world, to serve her. I saved her from death, as well as bodily pain, as best I could. I never once failed her… until the end."

Selina thinks she understands this: _Gotham did not perish. _It was Talia's desire, to avenge her father, complete his will. Selina saw the joy on her face as she died believing she had succeeded. Only Bane lives with the knowledge it was not so. But that is not what Bane says.

"I could not save her from herself." Selina turns to look at him, surprise evident on her face in her weakness. The palm of his hand moves gently to her cheek, propping her head up to aid her. Even to Selina, it is obvious that Bane represses his speed and strength to keep Selina relaxed.

"I failed to see that her desire to destroy the evil of Gotham was slowly poisoning her, just as the corruption did to the city itself. I was blind and she destroyed herself."

His face moves fractionally forward, towards her. "I will not allow you to do the same, Selina."

Selina's eyes flutter all over the room. He said her name. Not her surname—no more _Ms. Kyle_. He said her _name. _Her name, on his tongue. She never believed such a thing could mean so much, have so much weight, but it does.

A few tears trickle out, because Bane is all she has. She has lost everything, but this man. Her entire world stretches around him, becomes him. In the darkness that is the world she inhabits, he is all she has. For the first time, she sees him for all he is. He is a liberator, a protector and a savior. He may be a monster, but he is also an angel.

She feels emotions bubbling to the surface, emotions that she no longer possesses the strength to control. They come streaming out before she can stop herself.

"I love you," she says, and to both of their surprise her voice is not garbled by weeks of misuse, coupled with her suicide attempt. His eyes flash up to hers; his thumb catches her bottom lip beneath it.

"I…I…" She's back to stumbling now, trying to explain herself. Her voice is weak from the sickness of her mind and body. "I was going to tell you… Before Bruce died."

In her mind, Bruce died the moment Bane told her it was so. She cannot comprehend the idea that he was gone from this world for days without her knowing.

But then she laughs through the tears, bitterly, because all those feelings have come crashing down. "I was going to ask you to—to run away from all of this. With me."

How could she have been so stupid? How could she have believed, so truly, that any relationship between Bane and herself could work? They are poison to each other. Bane's hand brushes down to her bare collarbone, traces an old bruise that has managed to survive over many, many weeks. It is like he is remembering the same things—everything that happened between them, how Bane ripped Selina apart over and over again.

"And… now you cannot." His voice trembles with anger as he speaks, but something else too—disappointment, regret, sorrow.

"I can't," Selina confirms. "I can't _talk_ to you, I can't _be_ with you, I can't _look_ at you—even—even now I feel _sick_—"

She grips her head with each hand as another round of sobs move through her and she gags, ripping herself from Bane's light grip.

"You _killed _him. We _killed _him. I'm _dying. _You are _killing me_, Bane."

She feels his hand move back to her neck. He grips the space beneath her jaw.

"And… _why _should I care about… whether or not you are _comfortable_ with this relationship?" He growls. Suddenly, he moves to the bed. Forgetting his earlier gentleness, he pins Selina down against the mattress by her wrists, to keep her gaze locked on his. "I _told you_. That you are _mine. Forever._"

In another time, Selina would fear Bane's actions. She would anxiously _fear_ and _believe _his words for their face value. She would recognize Bane's intense desire to keep her to himself, to never sway in this. She knows better now. She sees Bane's tone, Bane's body language, for what it is. His words are anxious, trying to convince himself and to make it true, as if he could possibly change anything about this situation.

"You have to let me go," she says stonily. It is a struggle to keep her voice level, to not let the emotion, the desires of the part of her that wants nothing but to stay at Bane's side, show. "If you don't, I will be destroyed."

_Please. _Bane's eyes move away, towards the corner of the room. When they flash back, there is acceptance.

Selina begins to cry again. When the first tear falls, Bane releases his weight from his arms, so that he collapses atop Selina's midsection. She raises her weak arms so they can lay around his neck, pulling him closer. She shouldn't even accept his presence at her side. She should push him away, but she can't, because if this is the end then she needs to remember this moment for the rest of her life.

"I'm sorry." Her voice is a whisper; Bane does not reply.

* * *

**A/N **I swear to god, I am never going to stop apologizing about the wait between these chapters. I get messages from all you lovely people asking when the next chapter will be up and I feel so guilty... But it is really important to me that you get the quality that you deserve out of me-otherwise there's no point. I might as well just give you the outline.

I'm really glad no one flipped the shit about me killing Bruce Wayne. Also I'm really glad no one was disappointed about the way I ended his life, that I didn't have an epic battle between him and Bane or some crazy fire fight. Once a couple chapters left to go. xxx


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

Her body heals too quickly. If she was truly devoted to her decision, it would be a blessing, but she isn't. It's a curse, the strengthening of her lungs, her muscles. She's still sick: a headache that has plagued her skull for weeks, the mild stomach virus that only allows her to keep every other meal down.

She has reconsidered her decision innumerable time, has considered every possible outcome. She imagines staying with Bane, or begging him to come with her. She imagines living and dying with him, as she believed for so long she would do, though then it would have been against her choice. She imagines training to fight again, working with the League, battling against their enemies, caring for the younger of their brothers and sisters. She imagines such eloquent, beautiful futures that she actually almost decides to stay.

Then the guilt comes back.

Bane does not touch her, does not speak to her. It creates a pain that she keeps hidden in her heart, but truly she is thankful for it. Things are hard enough without having to cope with his hands on her, his deep, mechanized voice ringing in her ears.

They still share a bed, for whatever reason. It is a bit strange, but neither of them make a move to get up and sleep elsewhere. The door isn't locked anymore, she could easily find another room to sleep in, or walk out the door and leave, truly.

One morning, that is exactly what she does. Somehow she is able to communicate to Bane that it is _the _day, that she can't stay for a moment longer, without speaking a single word. When she walks out the door, posture and consciousness full of despicable purpose, he walks behind her. Even his footsteps are strangely, uncharacteristically quiet.

When she steps back into the sun, she closes her eyes. There is a light breeze, weaving around the shallow hills, sweeping in sand and dirt from the horizon. She feels it whip against her face.

When she turns back around, she presses a kiss against his forehead, awkwardly, without thinking about it.

_Goodbye_. Goodbye is something that you say to friends, right? When the word begins to bubble to her lips, she thinks of the fact that she never got to say goodbye to Bruce, was never given any warning to express any sort of farewell, of regret. She swallows the word back down. She cannot bring herself to say it, so she thinks it instead, hoping to convey it in the look in her eyes.

Barsad appears beside Bane, out of nowhere. There is a look on his face that she cannot place, and she is not sure that she wants to. He spares her a nod and places a dirty, frayed backpack in her hand.

"Provisions." She wants to reject the bag, wants to emphasize that she doesn't want to take anything from these people, that even the robe on her back, the worn shoes on her feet are too much for her to receive. But the weight, heavy and firm in her hand, grounds her, as if her body alone is too light for gravity to have any effect on. "There's some money, some food… Water…"

He lists off the items in the bag and Selina doesn't hear any of it. Her eyes are glued to Banes', trying to read him. She is unsuccessful, she doesn't have enough time. Before she knows it Barsad is stepping backwards, as if to give them a false sense of privacy. If they wanted privacy they would have sent him away, would have sent away the guards standing at the compound's door, watching the distant desert like hawks. If they wanted privacy they wouldn't be outside, under the sun and the heavens where the entire world could watch them.

They have no words for each other.

"Go," he says. The short command makes anger rise in her, like bile. She rears backwards a couple steps, staring at him with a look of complete and total disbelief because it was _he _that threatened to keep her to himself, it was _her _that decided to end their muddle of a liaison. She wants to curse him, wants to scream 'fuck you,' in his face. She wants to pick up the rock sitting beside her left foot and pelt him with it.

Instead, she turns on her heel and walks away. Barsad mentioned a map being somewhere in the bag but she couldn't care less where she is going, so long as she's _gone_.

After her first couple of steps, she hears the door close behind her, squeaky hinges aching at every motion. Then, for a long time, all she hears is the wind and the sound of her feet, scraping against the earth.

* * *

It is nothing like the last time she was free. Then, the world was stretched out before her. Now, there is only desert, only a land foreign to her in both climate and culture. She hates this place.

The dirt is pervasive. When she walks, she fears she may slip into the cracks and disappear from the world entirely. The heat seeps into her bones, dry air like poison that no amount of water can sate. She sweats out thrice the liquid she takes in; the water from Barsad is gone much too quickly. Though she finds a well on the outskirts of an abandoned village, it is long dry, as if it has been for years. Every building in the area is abandoned, in reality. Children's toys fallen to the ground in a line, whatever the game was abandoned in a rush.

Selina isn't stupid. She can see the bullet holes patterning the walls, the broken windows littering cheap glass on the dilapidated roads. It is the third world equivalent of the aftermath of a fire fight in the Gotham City Narrows. Not a sole around, as if afraid that their mere presence would be indicative of their guilt of participation, whether it be true or false, or that they could become the target of a friend or relative of a victim seeking revenge.

The town is close to the League's compound; it took Selina only three days to walk the distance, at a sluggish pace. Selina wonders what it means. There are not bodies piled somewhere, nor does it appear to be inhabited in anyway. Was the town under the League's control? Was it evacuated when the freed prisoners strayed to close? Or was the town invaded, the villagers given the choice to join the rebels or die?

Selina brushes her fingers absently over the indentation of a bullet in a wall, decides to spend the night in the miniscule mosque. Before the sun sets, she searches for provisions left behind. She does find a tub of water in a corner of a families home, but that is all. Everything else was taken.

For two weeks she does this. She walks from town to town, all abandoned, all littered with bullets. She is never quite sure how long the distance will be, if she'll collapse from dehydration before she can make it to another water source. Perhaps she should plan, perhaps she should pull the map out, but the idea seems ridiculous somehow ridiculous. As if she would be unable to read it even if she tried.

Most nights she spends laying in the dirt, attempting, without much commitment, to sleep. She looks up at the stars and thinks about how all of this used to be underwater, how, if she were transferred back in time millions of years, she would be drowning. She thinks about the religion the people of this country, whatever country it is. She thinks about stories and the books that she read, about all the questions that never were answered because she never actually finished reading _Les Misérables. _

She goes five days without coming across a town. On the third day she runs out of water. The food from Barsad is long gone, but she has small items collected from towns. She is thirsty, unsure whether or not to keep walking to find some or to lie down and just die.

Then, out before her, what appears to be but another crack twists and changes as she approaches. When the arrives, she sees that it is a hole. Against the setting sun, no light floods into it, so when she looks down there is only blackness.

"Hello?" She calls out. It is the first time she has spoken in days. There is no response. The sides of the hole are lined in brick walls—it is made by men. A gust of wind comes from behind her and all at once she remembers the story of Hades, Lord of the Underworld, and Persephone, Daughter of Demeter.

_Perhaps this is the hole he dragged her into. _Perhaps the hole leads to the center of the world, and the place below is where the dead roam.

_Maybe Bruce is down there._ Vertigo and excruciating emotions overwhelm her suddenly. Selina's heart drops and she falls to her knees. She chokes on bile as her snack of nearly-rotten fruit and stale bread threatens to come up. She remains there for a while, and night continues to fall around her. The sun is setting quickly this evening. Strangely so.

When she looks up, she sees a rope before her. It is bound to a metal hook that comes off the outside of the wall. She touches it, feeling the frayed hemp threads prod against her calloused fingertips. She stands and peers over the wall again; the rope drops down into it, fading away into blackness alongside the stone wall.

The answer hits her. _The Pit. The Prison. _She immediately takes hold of the rope and descends. Almost plunges to her death multiple times, but somehow manages to reach the bottom with only scraped knees. A small amount of light still streams down from above, but it is difficult to see. She pulls the flashlight, which she almost tossed aside as dead weight multiple times, from the bag. Shines it all around her.

Like every other place she has been, the Pit is empty. This does not surprise her; she's heard the stories, both from Bruce and from Bane. Why would anyone choose to be in a place like this?

_I'm here by choice. _The thought comes laced with melodrama and Selina is disgusted with herself. It's the truth though. She stumbles into one of the wide-open prison cells and collapses onto the cot. It is the first time she has touched anything resembling a bed in weeks and she falls into dreamless sleep instantly.

The next morning, she explores. The Pit is one of the stranger places she has been. It is rustic, ancient, has obviously been in use for centuries, but newer items lay everywhere—a TV propped on a wall, technical (albeit old and overused) medical equipment, cots and blankets with 'made in China' stitched in. It is like the new world is slowly seeping into the old, like pollution or an infection.

In a distant corner, she finds a box, filled with cases of dried fruit, nuts and thick bread, that was left behind. There are also a couple bottles of water. Despite the itching thirst in the back of her throat, she restrains herself and only takes in a couple mouthfuls.

She considers never leaving the Pit. Bruce, Bane and Talia were all imprisoned here by other people, but Selina is imprisoned by herself. Selina is well aware that she's being insensitive, that the Pit she now resides in is but a carcass of the Pit the other three experienced. For one, she is on her own, there are no other prisoners to attack her, to rape her, to make her life a living hell. There is no doctor keeping the television constantly playing images of her home city being destroyed. Furthermore, there is technically nothing keeping her from taking hold of the rope and rising back out of the hole forever.

But she doesn't leave. She stays for days, for weeks. Every time she considers departure she feels overwhelmed by a sudden apprehension of the outside world.

* * *

She wakes one morning to a cloud covered sky. It could have been days, months, years even, since she descended into the Pit. In the absence of sunlight, she wanders to the center, to lay fly on her back.

After staying still for a couple hours, the clouds do not part. Instead, it begins to rain. Drops hit her face and she wonders if it could rain enough that the Pit would fill up, dragging her back to the surface or drowning her in the process. She thinks of how she tried to kill herself, how she tried to end her life with water. It could end so easily, right now, if only it rained a little more…

_No. _Her hand, as if possessed, rises from her side to rest on her stomach. _No. _

If she were granted a single wish, what would she use it on?

Would she wish for Bane to have never been imprisoned? Would she wish for the League of Shadows to never have come to Gotham? Would she wish for Bruce to not have perished in a way so hopeless? Or would she wish for the child growing slowly, day by day, inside her to never have been conceived?

Her stomach is rounded, barely, the swelling of her breasts is only just noticeable. This is despite the little she consumes. She doesn't know anything about pregnancy, has no idea how far along she is. She hasn't had her period for a while, but she hasn't been keeping track. And the constant morning sickness…

When did it happen? She hasn't used birth control since Bane took her back, from Bruce. Bane couldn't be bothered to use a condom so it's a miracle that it didn't happen earlier, really. And there is no doubt that Bane is the father. She thinks about that, imagines a ridiculous, comical image of a child with a miniature version of Bane's mask attached to its face. The image is replaced by a different one—a girl dark eyes, a boy with full lips.

She gasps for air, suddenly. She could be crying, just unable to tell because of the rain.

"I am dying," she says to no one, because if it is not spoken aloud she may never truly believe it. It is true. She has believed it for a few days now. She is tired, exhausted really. She can't keep food down, can't bring herself to drink water. There has been a constant headache that refuses to ease even for a moment. More than that, she has been blacking our for indefinite periods of time. Just yesterday, she only remembers the sun rising. The next, it was the middle of the night and she lay on the opposite side of the prison.

It's the epitome of irony, this new life building insider her even as her body continues to whither away. No doubt Victor Hugo or Emily Dickinson or Robert Frost would have something poetic to say about it, but her mind is blank.

If she were in Gotham, or _anywhere_ but here, anywhere with modern tools, she could deal with this. She could go into the hospital, get cured of her nondescript illness and her pregnancy all in one go. Here, she can do neither, because even if she had a coat hanger she wouldn't know what to do with it. (She grimaces at the thought alone.)

No. She won't kill her unborn child.

She has to leave, has to go back. She has to go to Bane because even if she cannot be with him due to the guilt of what happened to Bruce, she cannot allow her child to come into the world without a home, with only a purposeless mother. _Especially if I die._

But how far can she possibly rise when she has already fallen so low?

* * *

**A/N **(_i know i suck at updating and a month is way too long and that i was writing other fanfiction instead of working on this and omg im so sorry.)_

Um. Guys. There's only one chapter and a tiny epilogue left. Oh dear.

And oh my god. You guys are too smart for me. So many people predicted that Selina was going to get pregnant. I tried to throw some of you of the trail (by lying like a bitch) but it didn't work at all... I guess I went a little too heavy on the foreshadowing... (Because I have literally had this planned since I published the first chapter) Geeze.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

When the sun rises easily to the absence of clouds, her clothes are still wet. When she forces her sore body to sit upright, the fabric clings to her body and she eventually decides to lay it out to dry while she collects her things—it isn't like anyone is around to see her naked.

For once, her mind is clear. She has no doubt what she needs to do, and that's the beauty of having a child, she supposes, of needing to put another person before yourself, unconditionally. She never wanted to understand such things, but now she can't imagine not knowing. She grasps, in nauseating hindsight, that if she had taken the pills, overdosed rather than attempted to drown herself, she would have murdered her child in addition to herself.

She takes the remainder of the nut and fruits from the box, as well as the remaining water, which she has likely rationed a bit too fervently. She dreads carrying it across the desert, but to leave it could very easily mean death.

At the bottom of the box she finds a bear. Brown fabric stitched together by a hand that could belong to none but a mother. It is battered and dirty and she fears that if she knows that if she holds it too tightly the head will tear from the body, releasing whatever stuffing remains inside it.

"Osito…" She whispers the bear's name without the slightest bit of doubt. There could be no other explanation, no other possibility for where this bear came from. For the first time, in all the days she has spent in the Pit, she sees Bane—the child that became Bane. He cowers in the corner beside her and she knows how much pain she could strip from the world, if only she could reach out and rescue him.

_A homecoming present, then_. She places the toy, carefully, atop the other items of the bag, praying that she will remember its presence even in exhaustion, that it will survive the journey.

When she stands at the bottom of the Pit, fully dressed in the glaring sun, the climb seems even more foreboding. Though she has a rope, it is not easy, especially with a much heavier backpack. As she climbs, she must stop every once in a while, knotting a foot in the hemp to rest. When she reaches the top, she collapses on the low wall, is unable to breathe for what seems like an eternity.

* * *

The land passes by much faster. She walks with a goal; she walks with a purpose. She walks with full knowledge of where she is going and she withdraws the map, yet untouched, from her bag. Sometimes, she breaks into a slow jog, or even a run. She regrets it afterwards, when her muscles burn and she imagines dying in the dirt, miles from civilization, but when the need for the ache in her limbs becomes to great she is unable to deny herself.

At night, she collapses to the earth and sleeps in a heap. When she curls up in the dirt, in fetal position, she imagines the child inside her in the same position.

It takes four days for her to come back to the compound. She sees the entrance rise up on the horizon like a monument to bring her home. The journey has been difficult, the weight of the child inside her taxing mentally and physically both.

There are no guards standing outside the compound. For a short moment, she blissfully believes that the League of Shadows have abandoned this place, that they have moved someplace else. Then, she opens the door and the moment passes by.

Blood. There's blood, everywhere. It is dried in puddles on the floor, splattered on the walls and even on the ceiling. When her eyes find the bodies the blood once belonged to, she sees the bullet holes that brought the liquid forth. They died instantly. Eyes remain open wide, staring at nothing and everything. Selina steps over them with care. This is not the first time she has seen a dead body, plenty have been created by her, but that does not mean she wants to touch one.

She sees this scene for what it is: an execution, bodies left half as a warning to any returning members, half as a desecration of their corpses. They were not buried or burnt, not respected in anyway. Their bodies would lie here for years to come; none would care to move them, the foot soldiers of an army spreading death and intensified ideals across a corrupt world. Selina imagines the American government, finally tracking down the League's headquarters to make them pay for their crimes in Gotham, only to find them already destroyed. _Or perhaps they too had a hand in this. _

The longer she walks, the farther she progresses down the hallway into the compound, the more she begins to understand. This is when the knot forms in her throat. The League's former prisoners came. They finally came. This day had been in the making for months, Bane had been preparing for it, the inevitable battle.

_They were taking revenge for their stolen lives, for their lost comrades_. _They freed a massive area from occupation by the League._ _Bruce trusted them. He likely would have aided in this battle, had he lived. _Though, Bruce would have demanded no blood be shed. His demands would be ignored, undoubtedly, but he still would have been there.

This is what Selina tells herself. That the men she recognizes, bloodied on the cement floors, were bad people. That they deserved to die. That the men she does not recognize were soldiers lost for the fight for good. But she breaks into a run and she feels tears forming in her eyes because _where is Bane? _

The base is large and winding, a labyrinth that she should not know but does. The form is imprinted on her mind.

She finds him in their room.

Or, rather, she finds what used to be him.

She stops in the doorway, staring at the sight with a faint sense of detachment. Someone ripped the mask from his face; she can see it lying on the floor on the other side of the room, near the untouched piles of books. When she reaches Bane's side, lets her knees drop to crash painfully, it is a respite.

With gross realization she feels as if kneeling there is the equivalent of standing vigil over him, but she doesn't know what else she could possibly do, in this morning. She manages to distract herself by digging through her pack to bring out Osito. She clutches it lightly in her lap. Tears break free, streaming down her face in wet streaks. The salt burns at her cheeks.

"Selina…?" She turns to see Barsad standing in the doorway. He's holding a gun, a blood-thirsty, crazed look on his face.

Her mouth falls open, a feeling of faint hope rising from her gut to mingle with the bile, acrimonious at the back of her throat.

"_Barsad_—" She whispers. "_Bane_, the—He'll survive, right?"

Because how could he not? Selina had killed him before, had shot him with so powerful a gun that his stomach should have been blasted through, and he survived that with only a few scars across his abdomen and chest. The Venom made him immune to any attack on his form.

"No, Selina…"

"But the Venom—"

"They removed the mask. The drug dissipated from his system before it could heal him."

Selina's tears cease. Her harsh breathing falls to shallowness and her heartbeat slows. This reaction takes even her by surprise.

Is she a poison? Her love for Bruce destroyed him, left him dead; she cannot help but feel that the same has occurred to Bane, in a fit of self-deprecation.

Barsad kneels beside her. His fingers brush over Bane's head clinically, checking the bullet holes and bruises. "They took no chances in making sure they brought our leader down…Do you see how many shots there are? Three at least, in this spot alone. His brain likely ceased to function before his heart did."

Selina does not want to hear this, Barsad's aside description of how Bane died. Still, when she looks at him, his face does not match the technicality of his words. Eyes wide, teeth bared. The leftover instincts from her days of hand-to-hand combat make her hyper-aware of the way his hands twitch as if to pulverize whoever did this, or to fire a gun into their skull. Bane was Barsad's leader, but Selina knows they were also friends. They trusted each other, implicitly and explicitly.

The exhaustion, the familiar despair washes up around Selina. What is she mean to do, with Bane gone? She _needs him. _She loves him, has done for months and he lays dead beneath her fingertips. The strength sucks out of her, the world around her peripheral vision blurs. She feels herself slouch forward, her temple pressing into his broad stomach. She remembers when such an action would have been alarmingly extrinsic, both to herself and Bane. But he isn't exactly a danger anymore.

Not to her body.

"We must go, Selina," Barsad says after far too short of an eternity. She wishes he would leave her be. She shakes her head in refusal, without looking at him, and presses her forehead harder into Bane's stomach. The flesh is cold beneath her. She is unwilling to move, unwilling to leave Bane's side for the sake of the feeblest chance he may return to her. "They will return soon, to search the compound for survivors and anything of value. If they find you, they will kill you."

_Good. _"Let them."

"Selina, you cannot die." His voice is firm as he takes hold of her forearm, attempts to fastidiously pull her from the corpse.

"_Why?_" She does not mean to snap, but she is so exhausted. Her voice sounds gravelly due to the lump in her throat. Swallowing it away seems unbearable. "There's no point. I'm _dying_."

"You know why. You are pregnant." Selina's head snaps up. The swell of her womb was there, but it should still be muted through the thick fabric of her robe.

"You knew?" Barsad nods, but his head quirks to the side before he answers, as if listening for something. When he turns back to lock his eyes with her, there is a measure of desperation present.

"After you attempted to drown yourself, Bane asked a doctor to ensure your health. He found the signs of your pregnancy and brought an ultrasound."

_Bane knew. _This knowledge is clarifying, like a breath of fresh air or a delve into a crystalline lake. Bane knew and he let her go, both for her sake and the sake of their child.

Selina remembers the words Bane said, to try and make her stay: _I told you. That you are mine. Forever._ She imagines how he must have fabricated a future for them, the two of them and their he must have dreamed of the two of them being tied together by something other than internecine obsession.

Selina remembers the words she used, to disclose to Bane her desperation for freedom: _You have to let me go. If you don't, I will be destroyed. _She remembers the moment he looked away, the resolve he possessed when he looked back. He accepted that his child could not grow up here, in the League of Shadows, that such a fate would be execrable. But he also could not leave—not with the enemies of the League growing in threat by the day.

He said nothing because he knew if he did, Selina would stay, just as she returned once the knowledge came to her. He didn't want her to make that decision.

"Bane knew." It isn't a question, simply a statement to allow Barsad the knowledge that she understands the implication of his words.

"Come, Selina. The survivors have built a hideout, four miles from here. We must reach it quickly."

Bane would want her to go. Not the Bane that she met that first night in Gotham, years ago, not the Bane that carved his name into her back, but the Bane that allowed Selina to go free for the sake of their child.

She places Osito, the bear of Bane's innocence, on his chest to keep him safe. Though nothing could keep him safe, not now.

"No," Barsad says. "Bring the bear. Bane would want him for your children."

"My children," Selina murmurs, comprehension of the words failing to snap in place in her enervation.

"You are having twins."

* * *

It is hours before she is alone. Hours of keeping her sentiments at bay leave her brimming with anger. Suicidal notions would gain victory over her, were it not for the beings growing larger inside her, cell by perfect cell. Barsad, in an act of mercy that she truly did not believe any member of the League could possess, gives her a room to herself. With hands clutching at her children, through the flesh of her stomach, she cries herself to sleep.

_She sees a storm crash around her. She stands in Gotham, but it has become unrecognizable in the face of the hurricane. Against the wind, the buildings are stripped of their glass, of their stone, until only the metal skeletons within remain. The rain continues, buckets pouring down from the sky. The remnants of the city are flooded by the ceaseless water. _

_She screams, but it makes no difference. She struggles to fight against it, to swim towards a pole where she can hang on. It makes no difference, for as soon as she attempts to approach an anchor the waters rise. They continue to rise, until Gotham must lay miles beneath Selina and she swims on. _

_She drowns, and resurfaces, only to drown again. She sleeps in an ocean. The waves overwhelm her and the pain is too much to bear. She wishes for an end. She wishes for mercy on her battered body, battered spirit. _

_Then, when it seems as if there is truly nothing left. The water calms, until it is smooth as a mirror. She floats atop it, and when she turns her head she can see the gutted city beneath her. _

_Above her, the clouds begin to clear. _

_The storm passes._

* * *

**A/N **I am so sorry. I know none of you wanted this, but I had a plan and I had to follow through with it. I'm planning on answering every review I get on this chapter and the epilogue, so if you want a response please make sure you're logged in. xxx


	25. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Selina Kyle does not grow old. She does not live a long, full life. After giving birth to her twin children, she does not leave the town or their birthplace, does not see the world. Barsad looks after the three of them, forgoing both the rebuilding of the League of Shadows and the avenging of his friend and leader for the sake of fostering the man's family.

She has a boy and a girl. The boy is called Bruce; the girl, Talia. They are named for the people their parents were unable to protect.

She dies at a young age, from a disease passing through the area. Her children are only four years old, when she leaves them. In the days before her passing, she feels the cool of death approaching her. Bruce and Talia are young, hyper-sensitive to the disease and have been taken from her to keep them safe. She writes them a letter, instructing Barsad to give it to them once he deems them old enough to understand. The man promises to look after them and Selina does not doubt him.

She dies fitfully in her sleep.

* * *

Fifteen years later, the Bruce and Talia near twenty years of age. They are trained in combat, in the use of their bodies to take down any opponent. In the spirit of the Batman, Barsad forbids them from killing another person, just as Selina desired.

Talia has light brown hair, tanned skin that shines in sunlight. Sharp eyes and round cheek bones draw men to her, but she rejects each of them. She has the spirit of Selina Kyle, untrusting and unencumbered by lies and manipulation. Three years earlier, a fire broke out in the orphanage after the poor owners could not pay taxes to the local despot—a corrupt man backed by the group formed of the League's former prisoners, the men that killed them in their home. Most of the children escaped, but Talia, unable to allow even a single child perish, rushed inside and saved the three that had been misplaced. Inside, the flames took hold of her leg and a left behind a bright-red scar stretching up the limb to her hip. She was lucky not to have lost it completely.

Bruce has dark brown hair that he keeps cropped short, despite the style of the area. He dislikes the feeling of it in his eyes. His face is the spitting image of Bane, of the man he would have been if not for the Pit's toll. His body also reflects that of his father. Broad and muscular, Barsad has trained him to use the strength to his advantage, to move with speed, though he must act in the absence of the Venom. He inherited Bane's intense thirst for knowledge, already speaking four languages and in the process of learning another. Once Barsad had taught he everything he could, Bruce took it upon himself to teach the village children, male and female, how to defend themselves. Under the shadow of the League's replacement, even a small amount of strength could save their lives.

On a cool winter evening, Barsad sits them down and explains the conditions in which Selina wrote the letter, that he has not read it himself. He hands it to them and leaves the room, allowing them to experience their mother's words at their own pace.

_Bruce and Talia,_

_If you have survived to be able to read this letter, I am eternally grateful. I know neither of you will have any memory of me, but I am your mother. This letter is no replacement for years of nurture and tenderness, but it is all I can do under the circumstances. _

_It is important for you to understand the origin of your names, because you are each named for someone very important to your father and I. _

_Talia—your father loved the woman with your name more than anything else in the world. She saw the strength in each and every person and saw value where others saw none. He told me his regrets, once, that he could not save her from herself. Do not fall prey to the same obsession for revenge that she did, but live life with the same passion. _

_Bruce—you are named for one of the greatest heroes the world has ever known. He saved millions of people countless times and inspired even more. He was a great man, but do not become the man he was. His greatest weakness was his inability to trust in those around him. No burden is yours to bear alone. _

_I could write words to you of how I wanted something different for the two of you, different than what your father and I had. I could write my wish for you to life a life far away from where you were born, far from where I was born, and to live without violence and without hatred. _

_But I know, with Barsad's tutelage and your father's and my blood in your veins, such a task would be quite the feat. Do what you think is necessary, but never cast aside your morals. I have complete faith in you. _

_Your father and I made many mistakes, but I want both of you to know that you are not one of them. That you could have came from all the destruction we created is a miracle in itself—both of us understood this. _

_I regret that I cannot see you, as you are now. I imagine the people you have grown up to be would make me proud. _

_I would like for you to know the whole story, if you would hear it, but I fear my strength is too lacking to write it here. It is a story of a prison, of a man that could not die and yet was destined to do so, of self-discovery, of the choice between life and death, and how even when annihilation seems inevitable, there is always another way._

_If you show these words to Barsad, he will tell you anything you wish to know. _

_Know that I love you and that your father, who knew you only before you came into this world, loved you as well. We would have given everything we had to keep you safe. _

_Your Mother_

Perhaps, someday, they will create a storm of their own.

* * *

**A/N **When I originally started writing this, I had the story ending after Selina tried to kill herself. The more I thought about it, the more anti-climactic this seemed. It felt like a copout. This ending seemed more realistic. Throughout the writing process I switched between Selina dying with Bane, her dying in child birth, her living a long life and raising her children, but nothing but this felt right.

I want to thank all of you for bearing with me throughout this story. I have been writing it for ten months and, especially for the last couple chapters, the wait between them has been very large. To those that have been with me from the beginning, thank you for sticking around. You guys have been the best readers I could ask for. This is the most popular of anything I have written and it feels really good to know I've (somewhat) succeeded in writing Selina and Bane.

I'm sorry to say that I don't have anything further planned for Selina and Bane. A lot of you were asking for Selina and Bane down the line, but obviously that isn't happening. If you have an idea for something feel free to share, in the hopes it may inspire me (or someone else) to write. I wish more people wrote this pairing. It has so much potential and it really kind of makes sense, in a sick way.

Like I said in the last chapter, I'll respond to all the review this chapter gets, so please make sure you are logged in. :) I am still writing, but I have basically picked up and moved to my AO3 account, where I go by luvkurai. You can find me there and on my tumblr: **luvkurai . tumblr . com**

Thank you so, so much for reading! I love you all. xxx


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